Reluctant Heir

by Barbara Miller

  “And how exactly did that happen?” She had seen it herself, Nash’s gradual thawing toward her beloved and she had to believe it was Gerard’s honesty and nothing else at all.

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure but I am thankful. Did you fire your maid?”

  “I did try but she begged so piteously that I agreed to give her another chance. She says Helen threatened to sack her if she didn’t reveal what had happened in France.”

  “That has the ring of truth.” Gerard glanced toward the other ladies. “How far may I take you without risking censure from Melanthe or Emma.”

  “Neither of them would care if we walked as far as the lindens. We’d still be within sight.”

  “I was hoping or a screen of foliage so I could steal a kiss.”

  Juliet smiled. “Are you very unhappy that I warned Tully he might be called upon.”

  “No, for I no longer fear any repercussions. For him.”

  She laughed. “What possible repercussions could there be? It looks as though everything will turn out fine.”

  “Except for those who held that a council of war. Even if I am declared the heir I have no power as yet so I cannot offer them anything to assuage this defeat.”

  “Why should you?” She wandered toward the arbor as if by accident.

  Gerard set the basket down on one of the rough benches inside. “It’s a very old rule of war, not to leave your enemy with nothing unless you can absolutely defeat him. It makes him very dangerous indeed.” He glanced toward the ladies picking roses, then dipped his head toward Juliet.

  “Or her,” she said as their lips met.

  A shot sounded a split second before Gerard felt a firebrand score his left shoulder. He dragged Juliet to the ground and covered her as best he could.

  “My God, someone has shot you.”

  “It must have come from the plantation. As in France, it is only a scratch.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that someone is trying to kill you.”

  Disregarding the danger to themselves both Melanthe and Emma were running in their direction but Chandler reached them first, just as Gerard was helping Juliet to her feet.

  “Juliet, are you hurt? There’s blood all over your hand.”

  “It’s Gerard’s. How badly are you wounded?”

  Chandler stripped off Gerard’s coat and used Juliet’s shawl to bind up his shoulder which was scored across his shoulder blade.

  Melanthe was fanning Emma on a bench as General Cochran limped toward them. How odd. Juliet had no idea he had a limp. He must conceal it well, better than his vision problem.

  “Lucky I leaned over to—lucky I leaned over or I would have got it in the head.”

  “Look what Jack found,” Nash said, striding toward them. “It’s still warm.” He had the pistol in one hand and Jack was at his heels.

  His mother shrieked. “You should not be playing with guns, Jack. You nearly killed Gerard.”

  “I didn’t do it. I was running to catch the villain who fired it and found the pistol.”

  Gerard shrugged then grunted at the stab of pain. “Emma, I believe him. Jack doesn’t lie.”

  “Did you recognize him, Jack?” Nash asked.

  “I didn’t see his face. He wore dark clothes. I thought he was a poacher.”

  Gordon was shocked to have Chandler and Nash shepherd Gerard up the stairs to his room. They shut Juliet out in the hall as Gordon examined the wound and it angered her. She was good enough to bandage him in France. Why not here? As she paced the upper hall she heard a groom ride out, probably sent for the doctor. And there was a storm breaking in the drawing room, no doubt over the heads of Helen and Claude.

  * * * * *

  Several hours later Chandler opened the door and motioned with his head. Juliet burst into the room to see Gerard up against a bank of pillows looking a trifle foxed.

  “This is such a noisy house,” Gerard said. “Is the general ringing a peal over Helen or Claude?”

  “Both, I think and my maid is having hysterics.”

  “Why is she upset?”

  Chandler had left the door open and crossed to the bed. “Perhaps she feels guilty for gossiping about you.”

  Juliet was wringing her hands. “Charles, I now suspect she complied with their wishes for pay.”

  Gerard sighed. “And having gone that far thinks she may be an accessory?”

  Chandler shook his head. “Hardly but Helen is capable of lying to her.”

  “Yes, we must remember that,” Juliet said. “I think Helen could lie straight-faced to anyone.”

  “And that puts me in mind of something I wanted to ask both of you,” said Charles. “Do you really think Great-uncle wrote that wicked letter even in anger?”

  Gerard shook his head. “I think Helen wrote it and he has no idea what it said. Perhaps my father meant to come back someday and discuss it with him.”

  “I am so glad you did not use it this morning.” Juliet fluffed the pillows though they did not need it.

  “Let us destroy it now,” Gerard said. “It’s done enough harm to my thinking. I don’t want anyone else to read it.”

  “Where is it?” Charles asked.

  “My money belt. I got it out of my trunk to get the documents then put it back in.”

  “Here is the belt but it’s empty, no money or anything,” Charles said.

  Gerard took it and looked himself.

  “Is the money missing?” Juliet asked.

  “No, all that was left inside was the letter. Who on earth would want it?”

  “I shall speak to my maid.”

  “No. she might still carry our concerns to Helen. Say nothing. Chandler, ask Gordon to assess the servants, if there are any that might be capable of such a thing.”

  “Or of shooting Gerard,” Juliet added.

  “At least we know it wasn’t Nash,” Charles said. “He was with me.”

  “I don’t believe it was Claude either,” Gerard said. “If he wanted to kill me he could have done so at the mill. He passed up a chance to knock me into the wheel race. By nature he is not evil but gets goaded into acting badly.”

  Juliet shrugged. “And passes it on. But Nash never treated him that way. He was hardly here when Claude was a boy.”

  “It all comes back to Helen.” Charles folded his arms. “Sometimes I think she can make him do anything.”

  Gerard shook his head. “Not murder.”

  “Perhaps he wasn’t so desperate before. And he was drunk?” Juliet said.

  “He did miss,” Charles reminded them.

  * * * * *

  Gerard felt so left out propped up in bed in his room that he had Gordon dress him so he could go down and have dinner with the others. He laughed to himself on his careful way down the stairs. A week ago he wanted nothing to do with these people. They were all surprised to see him in the drawing room. “Where is Claude?”

  “Why do you care?” Helen asked.

  “We should all care.” He didn’t bother to sit but glanced toward Nash, who had been standing looking out the window in variance to his advice.

  “I think I know. I will go look for him. Do not wait dinner.”

  They moved into the dining room then and were quiet while the first course was served. When his grandfather asked where Nash could possibly have gone Gerard looked at him. “Not very far.”

  For some reason that upset Helen. If Gerard was right in his guesses Helen knew that Claude had gone to the mill. No doubt that Anna was the gentler influence on his life.

  “How do you know?” the general asked.

  “I did not hear a horse ride out.”

  “Oh, the mill,” General Cochran said. “He used to go there for comfort. Anna was his nurse when he was little.”

  Once again Helen glared at them.

  “Yes, I could tell she has a tenderness for him,” Juliet replied.

  The old man nodded. “He will come back when he calms down.”

 
Abruptly Helen got up and left the table without even pretending tears. Perhaps Claude might someday be reconciled to Gerard as the heir. Certainly things could be worse for Claude but Helen would have presented the outcome to him in the most disadvantageous way. And to what purpose? She could not now change the way things are…unless Gerard were to die. So whether she meant to use Claude as a murderer or hire a killer to get rid of Gerard she was the one to watch. Given the chance he thought he might win Claude over but not Helen. There could be no reconcilement there. So one of them must leave and a husband would have to choose his wife, wouldn’t he? That was a depressing thought.

  Juliet played for them after dinner since Helen was not there to object. After an hour she closed the keyboard and turned to them.

  “I do not know about the rest of you but I will turn in early.”

  Chandler and General Cochran went straight from the drawing room to the estate office. As Gerard went up the stairs he hesitated on the landing and swung the door open to the balcony. He went out with some hope Juliet would join him there but it was dangerous. He heard the great front door open and feet upon the stairs but he was not the only listener. A patter of shoes from above met Nash and Claude as they come up the steps.

  “I am not drunk, Grimpel,” Claude said, “so leave me be.”

  “But I must help you undress.”

  “Leave me alone, both of you.” By the sounds of it Gerard surmised Claude stomped up the stairs, went into his room and slammed the door. The soft patter of Grimpel’s feet followed but Nash turned to go downstairs.

  “Is he all right?” Gerard asked as he stepped back in off the balcony.

  Nash hesitated. “Depends. Are you alone out there?”

  “For once. Did you talk to him?”

  “Yes and so did Anna—Miss Herrick. He usually listens to her but Claude sees this as some kind of personal failure.”

  “He has no control over it and neither do I.”

  “That isn’t what he wants to hear right now.”

  “For the peace of the family I should leave, get that education I want so badly.”

  “I thought you had given up on that in order to win Juliet.”

  Gerard shrugged then grimaced at the pain this produced. “Yes, I realized that if I left I could not win. But just because I stay does not mean I will win either.”

  “I did not think you a coward.”

  “What?”

  “I thought it would take more than a bullet to dislodge you.”

  “Oh, the shooting. That isn’t what worries me. Helen will tear this family apart.”

  Nash put out his hand and laid it gently on Gerard’s uninjured shoulder. “She already has, Gerard.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The weather began to clear the next day but the fields were still wet and Gerard was in the boxroom listening to Jack play on his flute. He did not think they could be heard and there was little else for him to do with his chest bound so tightly he could hardly breathe. Besides, the music might help him think of a solution where he got everything he wanted and everyone else got something. That sounded so selfish but what he wanted was for the good of all if only they could see it.

  The door opened and Claude came in looking strangely intent. “We forgot a very important part of your education.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Swordplay,” he hissed. Gerard realized he had been drinking this morning even though he had not been last night.

  “You mean fencing?” Gerard got up and nodded to Jack. “Lesson over for today. Go upstairs.”

  “No, I won’t leave you with him.”

  “Go now, Jack.” Gerard was glad to see Jack scurry out the door and up the stairs. He could only hope he would bring help before it was too late.

  Claude threw open a trunk Gerard had never investigated and turned with two military sabers in his hands. “No, I mean the real thing.” He tossed one to Gerard who caught it with the thought that Claude was at least playing fair. He could have just attacked him. Suddenly the Claude who had such unexpected grace on the dance floor took a pose that only an expert fencer would use and he moved back and forth with the grace of an Adonis. As the blows began to rain on Gerard’s inadequate defense he wished he had applied himself more at the fencing salon but he didn’t think fencing skill would be much good against this onslaught. Each blow felt like to shatter Gerard’s forearm. So he started blocking Claude with furniture. Discarded chairs and crates shattered under the impacts of his cousin’s blows.

  Helen slipped into the room, probably hoping to witness his demise and locked the door, then slid sideways toward the other entrance, perhaps thinking to cut off any retreat through the storage cellar.

  Gerard’s saber shattered in his hand, a fragment of the blade slicing his coat sleeve as it was impelled away. “Quarter,” he said as he retreated behind a table. There was pounding on the hall door and a heavy shoulder heaved against it, possibly Chandler’s.

  Claude hesitated, breathing hard. “So I have beaten you.”

  “I concede the match.”

  “Kill him!” Helen whispered fiercely.

  Claude turned on her. “Stop telling me what to do!”

  “Someone must.”

  Then Nash appeared in the connecting door to the storage cellar. “Claude, I beg you to stop. It is enough.”

  “Is it?”

  ”Yes, come with me.”

  Claude looked lost as though he had just realized what he’d done. “But after this I’m the one who will have to leave, not that upstart.”

  Gerard stepped forward. “No one has to leave.”

  “It isn’t too late,” Helen said, her eyes almost mad with desperation. “Kill him now. We’ll say it’s an accident.”

  “That you will not,” Nash said. “Gerard is the heir. But even if he wasn’t, I’d not stand by and see him murdered.”

  Finally the door gave way and Chandler rushed in followed by the general, Jack and Juliet who scanned Gerard’s face to see if he was all right.

  Claude threw down the saber and stalked out.

  “Nash, go after him. No one has to leave,” Gerard said, trying to think of an explanation he could offer for the general destruction.

  “What just happened here?” General Cochran demanded.

  “An ill-conceived fencing lesson?” Gerard answered.

  “Fencing? With military sabers?” He looked around at the devastation. “Looks more like a war.”

  “Stupid, stupid,” Helen chanted as she gathered her skirts and left.

  Nash had gone after Claude so they would believe any story Gerard told them and he was desperately trying to think of one that would bring them all out of it blameless.

  ”Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Gerard said in spite of feeling the familiar stickiness of blood on his shoulder blade.

  “Well, report to Gordon and have him make sure.”

  His side had held together but he’d torn a few stitches from his back wound. Gordon tied everything together again and convinced Gerard to rest. He woke late in the afternoon. Even though he felt like a broken doll sewn back together several times over he wanted to appear at dinner if for no other reason than to show he wasn’t hurt by the day’s adventure. Also there was a deal of packing going on and he could not make out who was leaving. Then all tramping up and down the stairs ceased and he heard his grandfather shouting from below stairs. Against Gordon’s advice he dressed and went down. His grandfather came out of the library looking like thunder.

  “Get in here now.”

  In the space of time it took him to cross the hallway Gerard went over in his mind all the things he might have done to cause upset and for once came up clean.

  Chandler was there as well as Nash but looking hurt rather than angry. Helen and Claude both looked smug. Now what on earth could have happened to turn the tables on him in a few short hours?

  “Sit down,” his grandfather commanded. “I don’t wa
nt you passing out on us.”

  Gerard glanced toward Chandler and his stare was no help.

  “I was going to send Claude to London to live since you two cannot seem to get along. Nash was to go with him. Then I am told about this planned elopement and I don’t know what to do with you.”

  “Elopement?” Gerard asked. “What elopement?”

  Nash advanced on him looking hurt and betrayed. “You meant to elope with Juliet and after my warning?”

  “But that’s absurd. I would never consider such a thing. It would ruin her.”

  “So why does Juliet have a bag packed with a letter to her brother?” the general asked.

  “I don’t know? What does the letter say?”

  “I do not open other people’s mail.” General Cochran handed the missive to Chandler.

  He read for a moment and shook his head. “’Tis true, this is a letter of goodbye. You planned to steal her away? I can hardly credit it.”

  “That is absurd. I planned to wait until she came of age no matter how long it took. Are you sure Juliet wrote that letter? We’ve had some confusion about such matters in the past.” He looked at Helen when he said it and thought she looked puzzled. So she did not have the old letter. Then it must be Claude.

  Chandler looked again at the note with a dent between his brows. “It looks like her writing.”

  ”Oh for God’s sake! Go get Juliet,” the general commanded.

  Juliet had been plotting how to get into Gerard’s room to nurse him. She arranged a bowl of flowers and started across the hall when Chandler said she was wanted in the library. She left the flowers on the table on the landing, sensing from her brother’s expression that they would not match the mood of the meeting.

  The first thing she saw when she entered was her portmanteau opened on the desk and she gasped. She felt positively invaded.

  “Who stole my bag? I bet it was that wicked maid of mine.”

  “And a good thing too that she carried it to Helen,” her great-uncle said. “Otherwise you would have been gone.”

  “Juliet, why would you assume I meant to carry you off?” Gerard asked.

  Gerard’s expression of confusion surprised her. Was he pretending innocence? If so it was not well done of him but she would have to cover for him. “I’m so sorry, Gerard. When I realized what you were planning I wanted to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”