by Anne Herries
Arabella went to her aunt’s room the next morning before she left for her appointment with Mr Hunter. Lady Tate’s personal maid was just leaving and she told Arabella that her mistress was still sleeping.
‘She has been overdoing things, ma’am,’ Ellen said. ‘The doctor warned her last month that she must take things easier now so I didn’t wake her.’
‘Are you telling me that Lady Tate is ill?’ Arabella frowned—this was news to her.
‘She isn’t exactly ill, ma’am. The doctor left her some powders to take. I think her heart is not as strong as it might be, though I only heard what he said as he left. Her ladyship did not tell me anything herself.’
‘I see…’ Arabella frowned. If Aunt Hester was unwell, might she indeed have turned faint the previous night? Arabella wondered for a moment if her aunt had imagined that someone was in her room. No, it was unlikely to be that—for where was the missing chamberstick? Whoever had taken it had made a mistake. And she must not forget that Tilda had also been sick after eating those dates, which was too much of a coincidence. ‘She did not mention her illness to me.’
‘You won’t tell her ladyship what I said?’ Ellen looked anxious. ‘I thought that you would know, ma’am.’
‘No, I did not. Thank you for telling me. I shall not betray you.’
Arabella turned away. If Aunt Hester was sleeping, she would not disturb her. She was thoughtful as she went downstairs. The news that her aunt was unwell was worrying. Did Ralph know of his mother’s condition? Ellen had told her—had she also told her mistress’s son?
The shock of the fall the previous night might have been enough to kill Lady Tate if her heart was truly not strong. Had she lain there all night, unable to get up without help…it could well have meant her death. Was that what Ralph had hoped for—that she would die of natural causes after her fall? Arabella had often thought him a coward, and it might be that he had not been able to bring himself to administer the fatal blow as his mother lay senseless at the bottom of the stairs.
Arabella was still pondering her unpalatable thoughts when a knock at the door heralded the arrival of Mr Hunter. He was admitted by a footman, a smile lighting his eyes as he saw her in the hall.
‘Lady Arabella, you are ready. I am not late, I trust?’
‘Quite punctual,’ she replied with a smile that lit her dark eyes with a silver flame. ‘I am glad to see you, sir. There have been some worrying developments during the night.’
‘Indeed?’ He sensed the burden of doubt and anxiety that hung over her. ‘Come, we shall talk as I drive. I can see that you are deeply troubled.’
‘I am anxious about my aunt,’ Arabella said as they stood for a moment on the pavement outside the house. She glanced meaningfully at his groom. ‘What I have to tell you is quite shocking.’
‘I understand.’ Charles turned to his groom. It would not do for this conversation to be overheard. ‘You may go, Brooks. I shall see you later.’ He turned to Arabella, taking her gloved hand in his to help her up to the driving box of his curricle so that she could sit beside him. She would feel easier for telling him her troubles in private.
‘Thank you,’ she said, settling herself as he took the reins. ‘I was reluctant to speak in front of your man, for what I have to say must not be repeated. I believe that someone may be trying to kill my aunt.’
‘Good grief,’ Charles said. ‘That is indeed very shocking—but please continue.’
He listened in silence as Arabella told of the dates that had made both her aunt and Tilda feel sick, and then of finding her aunt at the bottom of the stairs the previous night. She explained that her cousin was deeply in debt and that Lady Tate had refused to sell her home for his sake. She also told him that she had learned that morning of her aunt’s ill health.
‘I think that, if I had not found her, her fall might have led to a severe illness and death.’
‘She was lucky that you woke when you did.’
‘Yes, indeed. We were fortunate—but it concerns me that it may have been my cousin, sir. I do not like to believe it, but…’
They were driving through busy streets, which were in certain areas clogged by the passage of dray wagons, horses and carriages, and it was not until they entered the park that Charles began to question her. He asked her about her cousin’s behaviour in earlier times, frowning and repeating details, as if he wished to build a picture in his mind.
‘I believe I may have met your cousin on a few occasions, but he was often in the company of men like Sir Montague Forsythe—and, of late, Sir Courtney Welch.’ Charles looked grim. ‘I think that his friends may have led him into acts of violence, even depravity—and once a man loses his sense of decency—’ He broke off with a shake of his head. It was too dark and painful a story to tell her. She did not need to know of his sister’s abduction or the wickedness of men like Forsythe. The loss of her husband and now this fear for her aunt was more than enough to distress her—though she had such spirit that he thought she would defeat her dastardly cousin somehow.
‘So you do not think that Aunt Hester has delusions or that I am letting my imagination run away with me?’
‘I do not believe you are prone to foolish fancies,’ Charles said, glancing at her as he relaxed the reins, allowing his horses to walk at a sedate pace within the park grounds. ‘You appear to be a very sensible young woman, if I may say so—and as for Lady Tate, I saw no sign of delusional behaviour last evening. If she said she could smell a certain type of pomade, then she probably did. However, that does not prove that her son was there or that he pushed her.’
‘No, it does not,’ Arabella agreed. ‘Perfume sometimes lingers in the air and others may wear the same preparation. However, her chamberstick had disappeared before I arrived. Someone must have taken it.’
‘It could not have rolled away?’
‘She said it was on the table at the head of the stairs. I think she must have meant to light the branch that always stands there—as I did. I saw nothing of her own candle.’
‘Proof, perhaps, that someone was there.’ Charles frowned and looked thoughtful. ‘Do not think that I doubt your word, Arabella. I believe your cousin may indeed have attempted to murder his mother. These things have happened in the past, unthinkable as it is! However, I know from personal experience that it can be very difficult to prove someone’s guilt—and one must do that for a conviction in law.’
‘Aunt Hester does not want that,’ Arabella said looking anxious. She sighed and shook her head. ‘I was foolish enough to have the dates thrown away. I dare say it might have been possible to have them tested?’
‘I believe there are men of science who might have proved the presence of poison in them if it was there,’ Charles agreed. ‘I know of agents who are skilled in all manner of things concerning detection, though their findings cannot always be used as proof in a court of law—but, had you obtained such proof, would it have helped if your aunt does not wish for the scandal? There would be no escaping it were you to bring this matter to the attention of the law.’
Arabella hesitated, then, ‘I might perhaps have been able to threaten him with exposure. To make him promise that he would not attempt anything of that nature again.’
‘I think that could prove to be a very dangerous act on your part,’ Charles said. ‘If he would kill his own mother, I do not imagine he would hesitate to dispose of you.’
A shiver ran down her spine. ‘No, I suppose not. I had not considered that I might be in danger.’ She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Ralph asked me to marry him. I refused and he was angry, said that I had left him no choice, but he is my only relative other than my aunt. If I died…’ Arabella’s voice faded away as she realised that it was not only her aunt who might become Ralph’s victim. Her eyes opened wide as she looked at Charles. She hesitated a moment, but then realised that she must continue. It was true that she hardly knew him, but somehow a turning point had been found. She was drawn to him in a way
she could not explain, and something inside was telling her that this was a man she could trust. And indeed there was no one else to whom she could turn. ‘When Ben left me his considerable fortune, I was already wealthy in my own right. As things stand at the moment, Ralph would inherit everything once my aunt was dead.’
‘Perhaps you should make a will excluding him—and tell him of it.’ Charles suggested. He brought his horses to a halt, turning to look at her, his gaze narrowed and intense. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman and he suddenly wished that he were free to follow his own heart. ‘Are you truly all alone? Have you no one to protect you?’
‘Only Nana,’ Arabella said. ‘She was my nurse and has retired to her own cottage. I have my companion Tilda Redmond, and one special friend—and of course a bevy of faithful servants who care for my needs and would protect me to the best of their ability.’
‘I meant a male relative or close friend who could protect you,’ Charles said and read the answer in her face. Looking into her eyes, he was conscious of an overwhelming desire to hold her close and tell her that he would care for her as long as they both lived. No other woman had ever made him feel quite like this, his stomach clenching with a fierce desire that shocked him by its intensity. And yet it was more than desire, a feeling he had never experienced before that he did not yet understand. He reached out, touching her cheek with one finger. ‘Arabella…’
She caught her breath, her lips moist and soft, unconsciously inviting the kiss that seemed to be seconds away. She smiled, his name sweet on her lips.
‘Charles!’ A voice hailed him from a few feet away and the spell was broken, shattered into tiny fragments that melted like ice in the sun. He withdrew his hand, turning to look at the gentleman who had come up to them, unnoticed until that moment. ‘I did not know you were in town.’
‘John…’ Charles greeted the newcomer with warmth in his voice—they were good friends and John Elworthy had done much to sustain him during the dark months of Sarah’s disappearance. ‘I am glad to see you. May I introduce Lady Arabella Marshall. She was married to Ben Marshall—you will remember him, of course. Arabella, this is my good friend, John Elworthy.’
‘Yes, I do remember Ben,’ John said. ‘He was a fine officer, Lady Arabella. I am sincerely sorry for your loss, ma’am. We all respected and liked your late husband.’
‘Thank you.’ Arabella warmed to the newcomer’s open, honest manner at once. She sensed that Charles Hunter liked and trusted him. Suddenly, she realised that for the first time she was able to hear someone speak of Ben without feeling an overwhelming sense of loss. ‘I am pleased to meet you, sir.’
‘And I you,’ John replied. ‘Shall I see you later at the club, Charles? I’ve had a letter from Daniel. Something one of his agents discovered about that other business that I think you should hear.’
‘At White’s at one o’clock,’ Charles agreed. ‘Excuse me, we must get on. I shall see you later.’ He gave the reins a little flick as John tipped his hat to Arabella, and then, after a moment, he turned to look at her again. ‘I think that you are probably safe enough for the moment with your cousin out of town. When he returns I shall speak to him, warn him that he must tread carefully.’
‘Perhaps…’ Arabella hesitated. Her heart had returned to its normal beat, but it had behaved most oddly when his finger touched her cheek. Regrettably, the spell had been broken by Mr Elworthy’s arrival. ‘But we have no proof.’
‘Proof is only necessary if we seek a legal solution,’ Charles replied and a little nerve flicked at his temple. He and his good friend the Earl of Cavendish had discovered that to their cost in the effort to bring Sir Montague Forsythe to justice. In the end Forsythe had died in a desperate struggle as he had tried to escape arrest and been killed by his own pistol. ‘Sometimes there is a natural justice. Your cousin may be warned in a way that he will not easily forget, Lady Arabella. Please allow me to do at least this for you.’
He had twice called her Arabella; now he was using her formal address once more. He had put a distance between them. Something had made him draw back. She had thought for a moment as he touched her cheek that he felt something—that he was attracted to her in a physical way as she was to him—but now she wondered if she had read too much into that look.
Arabella was thoughtful as she was driven home. She had believed that she would never feel love again, never experience physical attraction to another man after her husband’s loss. The lightest touch of Charles Hunter’s finger against her skin had made her realise it was possible for her to feel desire. She was not yet certain that she had fallen in love with Charles, but she had wanted him to hold her, to kiss her—to feel the strength of his arms and the hardness of his strong body. In fact, she had discovered a need, a hunger for physical contact in a way that she had not expected to experience again.
Charles spoke only occasionally as he negotiated the traffic, and when he did it was to give her advice about how to handle her cousin. He impressed on her that she must be very careful never to be alone with him and promised that he would do all he could to ensure her safety. He was clearly genuinely concerned for her, which gave Arabella a certain amount of satisfaction. He must like her more than a little to be so anxious for her welfare.
When they arrived back at her aunt’s house, he handed her down from the carriage, holding her gloved hand for a moment or two longer than necessary, his eyes intent on her face.
‘Believe that your safety will be one of my chiefest concerns,’ he told her. ‘Your cousin shall be watched when he returns from the country. And he will know the consequences should anything untoward happen to you, Lady Arabella.’
‘Thank you,’ she said and her heart missed a beat as their eyes met. He was looking at her earnestly and yet not in the way he had looked at her in the park. For one wonderful moment she had sensed his passion, his need of her, but now his feelings were under an iron control. ‘It is good to know that I have a friend, sir.’
‘Yes, you have my friendship.’ For a brief second a flame leapt in his eyes and she thought he would say more, but then it was gone. ‘I know you go to the theatre this evening, but I shall see you tomorrow at Lady Hamilton’s card party, I believe. Please give my kind regards to Lady Tate.’
‘Of course, sir. Thank you for taking me for a drive. Talking to you so openly has eased my mind and…it was most enjoyable.’ For reasons that had nothing to do with her anxiety about her aunt, she acknowledged inwardly.
Leaving him to attend his horses, Arabella went into the house. She saw a man coming down the stairs and recognised him as her aunt’s doctor. She started forward at once, feeling alarmed.
‘Is Lady Tate unwell?’
‘No cause for alarm, ma’ am,’ Dr Harris said, smiling at her kindly. ‘A day or so in bed should put her to rights, Lady Arabella. She tells me she had a little fall last night. Her wrist is hurting her this morning, but it is only a slight sprain.’
‘Oh, poor Aunt Hester,’ Arabella said, relieved that it was not worse. ‘Is there anything we need to do for her, sir?’
‘She should rest for a day or so, that is all. I shall call again tomorrow but I am sure she will be feeling better.’
‘Is her heart causing her pain, doctor?’
‘No, I do not think so,’ he said, looking thoughtful. ‘I detected a little flutter, a little irregularity, a month or so back, but I think she is in no immediate danger. I believe she worries too much. I have told her she should leave that to others.’
‘I am hoping to persuade my aunt to come and stay with me in the country for a while.’
‘Yes, the very thing,’ he said. ‘You can keep an eye on her, Lady Arabella.’ He retrieved his hat and gloves from the hall-stand. ‘I must be on my way. I shall call again tomorrow.’
Arabella thanked him and ran upstairs, feeling anxious. However, Lady Tate was sitting up against a pile of pillows surrounded by books and her writing materials. She glanced up as her niece
entered and smiled a welcome.
‘Ah, there you are, my dear. Did you enjoy your drive?’
‘Yes, very much. I saw the doctor leaving. Did you feel unwell this morning, Aunt?’
‘My wrist hurts a little. I thought it best to be sure nothing was broken,’ Lady Tate said. ‘It was so foolish of me to fall like that. I must be more careful in future.’
‘Yes, but you know it was not just a fall, Aunt.’
Lady Tate glanced down at the bed, her fingers plucking restlessly at the silk covers. ‘Oh, I do not want to think about that, Arabella. Perhaps it was my own silly fault. I may have turned faint or missed my step…’ She could not meet her niece’s eyes as she made excuses.
‘Perhaps, but I still think you should come and stay with me for a while, Aunt Hester.’
‘Maybe I shall.’ Lady Tate patted the bed beside her. ‘Sit here for a moment. Tell me, Arabella, do you like Mr Hunter very much? I should so like to see you safely married, dearest.’
‘Oh, Aunt…’ Arabella shook her head at her ‘…we are merely friends. You know that, surely?’
‘But you might be more one day?’
‘I do not think so. I have told you that I do not wish to marry again.’ And yet Arabella knew even as she spoke the words that they were no longer true. She had believed that she could never feel passion again, never find another man she could bear to touch her intimately, that no one would ever make her feel as Ben had—but for a moment in the park that morning she had looked into Charles Hunter’s eyes and wanted him to kiss her.
‘I am sorry if I interrupted something important earlier,’ John Elworthy said as they met at White’s club that afternoon. Charles dismissed it with a shake of his head. ‘I wanted to pass on a message from Daniel from one of his agents.’
‘He has heard something important?’ Charles was alerted. ‘He has news of Sarah?’ His own investigations had so far come to nothing. Mrs Lightfoot had heard no mention of a young woman who might be his sister, and so far his agents had little to report.