A Wealthy Widow

by Anne Herries

  She left the house and headed towards the stables, which were in a courtyard at the far end of the outbuildings that made up the kitchen area. It was an ideal arrangement, for the stables kept the vegetable garden in good heart but were far enough away from the house not to be unpleasant in summer.

  Arabella had sent word that she intended to ride and her mare had been saddled ready for her. One of the grooms had brought out his own horse in order to accompany her, but she dismissed him with a smile.

  ‘I shall not need you this morning, Robert. I am only going as far as the village, thank you.’

  ‘As you wish, ma’am,’ the groom said, smiling in return. She was a popular mistress, for, though she owned a large estate, she was never unfair and always had a pleasant word for her people. ‘With your permission though, my lady, I have an errand for Master Coachman in the village—he needs something from the blacksmith. Would you mind if I rode a little distance behind you?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she said and laughed as she tipped her head to one side. ‘I am not sure if poor Blackie can keep up with Windflower—but you are welcome to try. I have a mind to give her a good gallop. You would like that, wouldn’t you, my pet?’

  She patted the mare’s head and gave her the treat she carried in her pocket, enjoying the feel of the horse’s soft nose against her hand before she pulled on her riding gloves and allowed the groom to help her up. They trotted out of the yard together, but Arabella had meant what she said; as soon as they reached open ground, she gave the mare her head and was soon racing far ahead of her groom.

  Arabella did not notice the odd flash of light that glinted in the autumn sunshine as she passed a small copse to her right, for she was enjoying her ride too much. She had not felt this free in an age and it was good to have the wind in her face. However, it did not go unnoticed by her groom, who was not attempting to do more than keep his mistress in sight. Mr Grant had told them all that they must keep a sharp eye. He was not yet convinced that the two gentlemen callers were to be trusted and it was best to be careful. And so Robert saw the man in the trees. He had been using a spyglass and his purpose was to watch her ladyship. Robert would have something to tell the bailiff when he returned to the estate, and he would make sure that his errand for the coachman lasted just long enough for him to be able to follow Lady Arabella home again.

  Arabella was completely unaware that she was being watched over by her faithful servants. She had decided to ride into the village to speak to Charles Hunter. She would tell him that her aunt had recognised Sarah and that she now accepted she was his sister. She also intended to ask him to take nuncheon with them, and to consider himself free to visit as often as he liked.

  The inn was quite large and, though ancient, was reputed to be comfortable. It was used as a staging post for Scotland and also for London because it stood a short distance from the crossroads. The yard was a hive of activity; a coach had recently arrived and the passengers were disembarking to partake of refreshments before going on—in this case to Scotland. Arabella avoided the horses and grooms milling in the yard, an obliging potboy sweeping a path over the cobbles for her to reach the inn, and taking her horse by its reins.

  ‘I shall not be long,’ she said, giving him a shilling. ‘Let my mare drink at the trough if she wishes, for I have pushed her hard this morning.’

  ‘Right you are, my lady.’ The urchin touched his forelock—he knew Lady Arabella well and had received many a silver coin in his palm. His father worked on the estate as a gardener and he hoped to follow when he was older.

  Arabella nodded at him and went into the inn. The host was busy seeing to his customers and she was standing in the hallway waiting to be noticed when a gentleman came down the stairs. She went forward to greet him, for it was Charles Hunter, dressed as if for a morning call, in pale buff riding breeches and a blue coat that fitted his broad shoulders like a second skin. His long boots had a gloss that would not disgrace him in the eyes of the ton and she sensed that he had taken care with his dress that morning.

  ‘Sir,’ she said in a tone of studied politeness, ‘I have some news that will please you. Lady Tate arrived yesterday afternoon, and she knew Sarah despite the changes that you too must have noticed. She is very fond of your sister and assured Sarah that you were indeed her brother. Sarah now accepts the truth—and I am sure she will be pleased to see you should you care to join us for nuncheon today.’

  ‘I had intended to pay a social call this morning,’ Charles said a slight frown creasing his forehead. ‘However, it would be pleasant to stay a little longer at your house—if you are sure I shall not be inconveniencing you, ma’am?’

  ‘No, of course you will not be in the way. I rode here this morning for that purpose—to tell you that you will be welcome to call as often as you please while Sarah is living with me. Your mama should be with us in a day or so and you must feel free to spend time with her and your sister.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Charles inclined his head a little stiffly. ‘I have ordered my horse brought round, Lady Arabella. Shall we ride back together—or have you other commitments?’

  ‘None at all,’ she replied. ‘I have given my mare the exercise she sorely needed. If you do not mind, we shall go back past Nana’s cottage. I want to see that it is securely locked—it is my intention to offer it to one of my people. I believe one of the grooms is hoping to marry as soon as he can find a home for himself and his wife. We abandoned the cottage when Nana was brought to the house, and I do not think anyone has been back since. I told Sarah that she could send one of the servants for anything she needed—and then I shall offer it to Henry.’

  They walked outside to where Arabella’s mare was being jealously guarded from the other grooms by her dedicated urchin. Seeing Charles, one of the senior grooms led out his horse and stood waiting while he assisted Arabella to mount.

  The touch of Charles’s hand made her tremble inwardly, but she gave no sign that she was affected, bestowing a cool nod on him. She had offered him the hospitality of her home, but she was not about to lay her soul bare to him.

  Once Charles was mounted on a magnificent black stallion that Arabella felt was more than capable of keeping up with her mare, they trotted out of the inn yard together. Arabella had ridden off her frustrations and she was content to canter sedately as they left the village, this time taking a narrow wooded lane rather than the open moor. Neither of them spoke, though each was aware of the horsemanship of the other, silently approving. It was only when they reached Nana’s cottage that Arabella gave a muffled cry.

  ‘The door is open,’ she said and dismounted without help, walking swiftly inside the cottage. The remains of a fire smouldered in the grate and she saw an empty wine bottle and the crumbs of a loaf on the kitchen table. ‘Someone has been here!’

  ‘I saw nothing as I passed last evening,’ Charles said and faltered as Arabella shot a suspicious look at him. ‘I came up to the house. I was restless and walked through your woods. The gate leading into your estate was not locked. I intended to tell you that this morning. It might be as well to instruct your bailiff that it should be locked at all times.’

  Arabella stared at him. ‘Are you thinking of Sarah’s safety—or my aunt’s?’

  ‘Actually, I was thinking of you,’ Charles said, looking serious. ‘It might be best if I told you what I know of Sarah’s abduction…’ He paused, eyebrows raised and Arabella nodded, sitting down on a chair at the kitchen table. ‘We know that a man called Sir Montague Forsythe and his bullyboys took her. He and some others were members of a satanic cult and they performed strange ceremonies in the woods of his estate, of which the main purpose was to sacrifice virgins to their deity. I do not mean that they were to be killed, but rather to be used in ghoulish rites that included the rape of innocent girls—girls who afterwards disappeared into a whorehouse. Forsythe owned several of these houses, which have, since his death, been closed. Some of the girls were glad to be rescued and sent ho
me to their families, though some had nowhere to go. Daniel—the Earl of Cavendish—has helped as many as he could. Most of the girls were maidservants, though I believe there were one or two girls of good family who had fallen on hard times…’

  ‘Wicked!’ Arabella cried, a feeling of disgust curling through her. ‘It is difficult to believe that a gentleman could do such things, though I knew that these places existed—but to keep girls there against their will is evil! Unbelievable!’

  ‘Is it?’ Charles looked at her, his eyes dark with cynicism. ‘I know more of the world than you, Arabella. I find it easy enough to believe that certain types of men will do these things. However, the two most influential members of the cult are dead—one by Forsythe’s hand, and he by mine.’ He saw her flinch. ‘It was as we struggled for possession of his pistol. We were trying to arrest him for murder and the abduction of another lady, and it went off by accident. However, if I am honest, I had vowed to see him dead. Daniel insisted that he must be tried and condemned by law, and I sought only to prevent his escape—but in other circumstances I might have killed him.’

  ‘I see. Thank you for telling me, sir.’ His expression was so grim at that moment that an icy shiver ran down her spine. She understood that in his anger and bitterness he might have killed in cold blood…but he had not. ‘I am glad that this evil man is no longer able to harm Sarah or any other girl.’

  ‘His death was a blessing, except that he might have given us more information about Sarah…’ Charles frowned. ‘I believe I must offer you an apology. I still think you ought to have tried to discover Sarah’s family before this—but I know that she owes her life to you and your kind nurse.’

  Arabella’s expression did not change. ‘Sarah owes her life to Nana, who took her in and cared for her. I helped her to recover as she regained her strength and we became friends—but it was Nana who saved her life. That is why she wished to care for Nana when she became ill some weeks ago. I wanted them both to come up to the house, but Nana did not want to be a trouble to me, which she could never have been. I could not force Sarah and she did not want to know who she was at that time. She was reluctant to come to the house, because she was afraid that she had done something evil…that she might have killed someone…or that someone wished her harm. She felt safe in Nana’s cottage and hardly ever went out. It was my intention to discover what I could by engaging an agent to search for clues, but, as you know, I was forced to leave town in a hurry.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ Charles said. ‘Well, it is in the past now.’

  ‘Yes, it is in the past.’ Arabella stood up. She was tight with nerves, for his expression made her heart race. Was he still angry with her? She could not tell—but he was angry about something. ‘I think we should leave now. I shall tell Henry to come and secure the cottage. He may wish to make changes here before he brings his sweetheart to see it—though it was made comfortable for Nana when she retired.’

  ‘I dare say he will think himself fortunate to have the offer of such a good house,’ Charles said as he followed her outside. ‘It is odd that someone should have been here. Do you often have vagrants on your land?’

  ‘No, not that I know of. Occasionally, a tinker family will pass through looking for work, but the magistrates maintain a poorhouse at Marsden, a village some ten miles south of here, and any homeless folk found in the parish are sent there.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘Your agent stayed at the inn, I know. It is rather puzzling.’

  ‘Have you heard from your cousin since he left town?’

  Arabella stared at him. ‘My cousin? I cannot see Ralph spending even one night here. He is too fond of his own comfort.’

  ‘Always providing that he is in funds.’

  ‘You mean…’ She felt cold all over. ‘But why would he stay here? He could have come up to the house.’

  ‘Would you have welcomed him with open arms?’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ Arabella said. ‘He knows that I suspect him of giving my aunt sweetmeats that made both her and Tilda ill. And there was that fall, which might have killed her had I not found her in time…but I could not refuse him if he came to visit Aunt Hester. He is her son, after all.’

  ‘Then I think you should be careful,’ Charles said and gave her his hand to help her into the saddle. ‘If it was your cousin, he came here for a purpose—and, as I believe we discussed once before, he is the main beneficiary from your will, Arabella. If you left everything to your aunt, it would eventually come to him.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I have been thinking about that,’ Arabella said. ‘I believe I must go into York and speak to my lawyer soon. Tilda is a distant cousin of my mother’s and I would wish her to have something, but I am not sure what to do for the best otherwise.’

  ‘You need someone to look after your affairs,’ Charles said. ‘Is there no one at all who could be trusted?’

  ‘I have many friends and my people are very loyal,’ Arabella said, lifting her head proudly. She refused to feel sorry for herself—or to accept his pity. In London she had thought he truly cared, but now she knew that he had merely been showing concern as a gentleman for a lady living without the protection of a male relative. Something he might as well show for Tilda or her aunt. ‘Thank you, but I shall speak to my lawyer on the matter. I dare say he will advise me—and now we should return to the house.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Charles said and mounted his own horse. ‘I am eager to see my sister now that she accepts I am her brother.’

  Arabella nodded, but said nothing. She had issued the invitation to make free of her home because it was the proper thing to do in the circumstances, but she must keep her distance—she did not want to betray herself. She was glad that they had discussed Sarah’s abduction, for it had helped her to understand what must have happened—and it explained Sarah’s nightmares. She could not know what had happened prior to Sarah’s escape from the wicked men who had captured her, and she would not press the girl for answers. It would not make the slightest difference to her genuine affection for Sarah even if she had suffered a dreadful fate. Indeed, the possibility that she had been abused only made Arabella more desirous of protecting her.

  She thought that perhaps she might make Sarah one of her beneficiaries. It was true that she had a family to care for her, but it might be that she did not wish to return to them. If her memory returned and she could not face living in the bosom of her family, a small independence would make it possible for her to live as she chose.

  She flicked her reins and set off a little ahead of Charles. He was deep in thought—he sensed that she was keeping her distance from him, despite her invitation to make free of her home. Had he hurt her pride by holding her to blame for the months of agony his mother had endured, to say nothing of his own distress? He blamed himself for this rift between them, but he had apologised and only time would tell whether they could ever be true friends again.

  Neither of them noticed the man creeping out from behind the cottage as they rode away. Nor could they have known that through an open window at the back of the cottage, he had heard everything they said as they talked. Ralph stood staring after them as they disappeared round a bend in the lane, a look of fury in his dark eyes. Damn the fellow for his interference! What right had Hunter to advise Arabella to make a will excluding him from what he believed was his by right of kinship?

  His mother had little left to leave him but the house and he knew that its sale would hardly touch the mountain of debt he had built up these past months. He had lost much of his fortune to Forsythe and others of the same ilk—damn them! He had been promised a chance to redeem his debt to Forsythe by some favour, but with Forsythe dead he had no chance of getting a penny of what was owed. And there was the other debt, which far outweighed it. He had no chance whatsoever of paying that whatever he did.

  In his anger he blamed the couple who had just ridden away. It was all the fault of Charles Hunter and Arabella! If she had not interfered, everything would have gon
e according to his plan. Ralph had hoped that his mother would die after her fall and that her estate would see him through until he could recover. It was not possible to go on losing at the gaming tables for ever—his luck was sure to turn eventually. His plan had not worked and now his mother was living with Arabella. It would be too dangerous to try to arrange another accident for her, because the suspicion would be bound to fall on him.

  Damn them all to hell! Ralph ground his teeth in frustration. In truth, his mother’s death would profit him little—it was Arabella who was rolling in it. She had been blessed with far more money than she needed! She could have offered to help him out with his problems, but she was a selfish bitch. If she had the least consideration, she would fall off that wretched horse and break her neck. He had watched her riding hell for leather earlier that morning, and hoped that she might have an accident, but no such luck.

  Supposing he were to arrange an accident for her? The thought popped into Ralph’s head out of the blue. He must get some funds soon, for his creditors were pressing for their money. He cared little for the tailors and other tradesmen to whom he owed huge sums; they could whistle for their dues and he would not give a damn—but it was the other one.

  Sir Courtney Welch was a devil. He had been one of Forsythe’s cronies and it was to him that Ralph owed the most—twenty thousand guineas, thrown away at the card tables in a drunken fit. Sir Courtney had given him one month to come up with the dubs, but he could not find the half of it.

  ‘Fail and you will regret it,’ Sir Courtney had told him, a gleam of menace in his eyes. ‘I take payment one way or the other, Tate—let me down and you are a dead man.’

  Ralph hadn’t been scared of Forsythe. He’d known about his little secret, though he had never been present at the meetings in the wood. He was not interested in that kind of affair. In fact, he wasn’t really interested in much other than gambling, drinking and the horses, and his besetting sin was laziness. He was actually a bit of a coward, which was why he hadn’t dared to put a significant amount of poison in those dates—just enough to make his mother ill. Damn it! He hadn’t known she would give them to the stupid companion. He had wanted to cause his mother some stress in the hope that she might die of natural causes. Her heart was supposed to be weak, wasn’t it? At least that was what that stupid maid had told him. Why couldn’t she just pop off and let him have what was his? He had pushed her down the stairs, but then, when she lay whimpering for help, he hadn’t dared to finish her off. He had simply taken her candle and made a dash for it down the back stairs. As a young man always in trouble with his bad-tempered father, he had learned how to enter the house without being discovered, and it had stood him in good stead that night. He had hoped his mother would lie on the floor all night and take a turn for the worse from it.