Neither Clarinda nor Daniel expected the two would actually make it to Bognor.
Clarinda thought that her mother-in-law and Lord Wallingham made a rather happy couple, although she could agree with the new earl that his potential father-in-law was ‘oily’. At least the viscount wasn’t a habitual gambler. In fact, his only vice seemed to be his propensity to bed older women – at least six last Season, if the wags were to be believed. Since most of those wags were men who frequented White’s, and since Wallingham was a member there, Clarinda thought there probably had been at least that many women who succumbed to his expert use of his ... family jewels.
“She probably won’t marry him,” Daniel said suddenly, as if he could read Clarinda’s thoughts. There was a tinge of hope in the comment, as if he was trying to convince himself as well as Clarinda.
Watching Daniel take his place at the other end of the table, a considerably shorter table now that several leaves had been removed, Clarinda considered his comment. “Are you ... relieved then?” she wondered, placing a napkin across her lap and doing a quick survey of the table and its settings. Although David might not have been a stickler for details when it came to a dining table at dinner, Clarinda didn’t yet know Daniel’s thoughts on the topic.
“Not yet,” he replied, allowing a wan smile before he shrugged with one shoulder. “She was still wearing that blue rock when she left here this afternoon. Although, I must admit I am very relieved to know Wallingham didn’t shoot David.” He straightened as a footman came into the room and placed a bowl of soup in front of Clarinda.
Having just picked up her wine glass, Clarinda nearly dropped it. “Shoot him?” she repeated, her mouth opened in shock. “Oh. You refer to that misunderstanding that nearly led to a duel, then?” she clarified, bringing the glass to her lips and drinking a bit more than she intended.
Daniel’s gaze drifted from the bowl of soup that the footman had just placed before him back up to Clarinda.
“Misunderstanding?” he repeated, wondering at her curious wording.
Clarinda nodded. “A couple of weeks ago, David was rather incensed at Lord Wallingham. Claimed the viscount had said something rather gauche about me. So David slapped him in the face with his gloves and challenged him to pistols at dawn.” She paused to take a spoonful of soup. “And then he forgot all about it. But, since no seconds were chosen to make the arrangements as to place and time, the duel came to nothing. The two probably would have laughed about it except David ... David died two days later.” She wondered why the thought didn’t make her cry as it had just a week ago. She began eating her soup in earnest, feeling more hungry than she had in days.
Daniel regarded Clarinda for a very long time, his expression quizzical. “David told me that duel was about something gauche Wallingham said about our mother,” he commented carefully. “And then Wallingham told me it was about David having impugned his honor. Odd, don’t you think, that they had two completely different reasons for the duel?” He nearly stopped in the middle of his sentence, thinking it wasn’t appropriate to be discussing duels with a lady. But Clarinda didn’t seem to mind and, in fact, seemed quite interested. “So, if Wallingham didn’t shoot David, then who did?”
Clarinda’s eyes widened in horror. “Who said David was shot?” she managed to get out. “The constable said he broke his neck when he was thrown from his horse.”
Daniel sighed, realizing just then that David’s ghost hadn’t told her about the hole in his head. “He claimed he was dead before he hit the ground. There is a hole in the back of his neck – I saw it with my own eyes. He was shot, Clare,” he stated, his head cocking to one side. “Which means someone either murdered him or ... accidentally killed him.”
Clare’s brows furrowed so the little fold of skin appeared between them. “If you’re referring to that hole in the nape of his neck, that’s an old hole,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “From when you shot him.”
Daniel’s bowl of soup nearly toppled over. “What?” What could she mean? “I didn’t shoot David!” he countered, stunned she would accuse him of such a thing. And do so while calmly eating soup.
“You did, too,” she countered. “You shot each other, if David’s story is to believed,” she claimed, taking another spoonful of soup and acting as if the hole in the back of David’s head was supposed to be there. “You have a matching hole on your chest,” she added, as if she’d seen it first hand.
Daniel stared at her for a very long time. He was about to ask how she knew about that hole between his two lower ribs and then remembered he had been in her bed that one time – although he couldn’t recall one of her fingers finding the divot in his flesh. He had to finish that thought before he allowed it to progress too far. His pantaloons were too tight as it was. “From the slingshot,” he remembered suddenly, his gaze directed somewhere beyond Clarinda. “A piece of gravel.”
“Uh huh,” Clarinda confirmed as she continued eating her soup. She watched as Daniel’s face took on an expression of recalling something long forgotten, remembering how he had shot his brother with a piece of pea gravel, and while David howled in pain, his brother had shot him right back. And they’d declared a truce while they dug the offending shrapnel from their bodies and hurried off to have their nurse apply plasters to the holes.
Daniel shook his head, wondering if David had used the hole in his head as a ruse to gain sympathy, or if his brother truly thought he’d been shot with a bullet the day he died.
Finishing her soup, Clarinda considered Daniel’s words. “When did you speak with David about the duel?” she wondered, suddenly straightening in her chair. Her mouth opened and shut very quickly, one gloved hand reaching up to cover her lips.
Shaking his head in resignation, Daniel sighed. “He ... He has seen fit to visit me quite frequently since ... my arrival,” he stammered, not wanting to say, “Since his departure,” which, although might have been more appropriate, certainly wasn’t the case given David still hadn’t actually departed. “His comments would lead me to believe you have suffered the same ... visitations far more often than I imagined.”
Clarinda held her breath for a moment, stunned at Daniel’s words. “‘Suffered’ is perhaps a rather harsh word to use to describe what I found to be rather comforting moments,” she spoke in quiet tones, hoping the footman or another servant wasn’t about to appear with the next course. “Although, some of his comments have been rather hard to ... abide.” If Daniel really was hearing and seeing David like she had been, it meant she wasn’t the only candidate for Bedlam.
“Like when he claimed you are having twins?” Daniel wondered, glad to hear her acknowledge David’s visits again. At least he wasn’t a candidate for Bedlam.
Or, if he was, then so was she. Perhaps they would be allowed to share a room. And a bed.
“I found that particular claim rather ... welcome, I suppose. According to him, I’m having twin girls, though, so you’ll be relieved to know you truly are the earl,” she said with a nod in his direction.
The words weren’t spoken with any kind of spite or disappointment, Daniel was relieved to note. Twin girls. He gave the idea some thought, his lips curling up a bit at the edges. “They’ll be beautiful, just like their mother. I’ll bestow generous dowries on them and ensure they marry men who are at least viscounts in the peerage and who aren’t notorious rakes or gamblers,” he claimed, saying the words as if he’d practiced the vow for some time.
Clarinda’s eyes widened in surprise. “Goodness. It will be a wonder they marry at all, then,” she replied, her own lips curling up a bit. She sobered, though, and sighed. “Some of David’s other assertions are a bit more difficult to comprehend,” she spoke carefully, her eyes downcast.
“Oh?”
Clarinda blushed, hoping her reddening face wouldn’t be so evident under the candles of the cha
ndelier.
“You’re blushing,” Daniel murmured, the tone of his voice not necessarily sounding humored.
Dipping her head a moment and wishing a footman would appear to take the dishes, Clarinda sighed. “David believes I should marry you. And he claims I will bear you twin boys about two years from now.”
From the tone of her voice, Daniel tried to determine if David’s wish was hers as well. Twin boys. She couldn’t despise him that much now, could she?
She would after she bore the twin boys, of course, but that was still two years from now.
Daniel stood up suddenly, startling Clarinda so her head snapped up. She watched him as he approached her, wondering if she should flee the room. His brown eyes were nearly black, his expression so fierce Clarinda thought he intended to ... well, she wasn’t quite sure what he intended to do until he suddenly grabbed a pink rose from the vase on the sideboard and knelt next to her chair. He took one of her hands in his. “Pretend this room is an entire garden of pink roses,” he whispered as he handed her the rose. She took it with her free hand, remembering the roses in Kensington Gardens. “And please, Clare, agree to be my wife.”
Clarinda held her breath, shocked when he pulled a sapphire and diamond ring from his waistcoat pocket. It wasn’t Dorothea’s wedding ring – the sapphire was far too large, as were the series of white diamonds that surrounded the blue-violet stone. Clarinda gasped when she saw it. Daniel had it slipped onto her finger before she had a chance to speak.
“Daniel!” she breathed, throwing herself into his arms. Given his position on one knee, he toppled backwards, Clarinda following him down so she ended up atop him on the floor in a tangle of silk skirts and arms and legs. Her lips were on his, then, kissing him and breathless with her “Yes” and “Of course, I will marry you.”
And, of course, the footman would choose that very moment to appear to remove their soup bowls. Although he let out a surprised gasp at finding them on the floor, he never once missed a step in his duty, pausing only to ask if they were ready for the main course.
Daniel held up a hand. “We are,” he replied, allowing Clarinda to continue kissing his cheek. “We have been for four years, I believe,” he murmured happily.
The footman bowed. “Very good, my lord. My lady,” he replied before he hurried back through the door to the kitchens.
Chapter 25
A Trip Back to London
The last of Daniel’s trunks were loaded onto the back of the Norwick coach while Clarinda’s valise was placed on the roof with one of the grooms. Another coach, loaded with the dowager countess’ remaining trunks, had departed only moments ago on its way to Bognor by way of Brighton. If anyone would have asked Daniel’s opinion, he would have said the coach would make it to Brighton – he rather doubted his mother would be back in Bognor for some time, if ever again.
Inside Norwick Park’s estate house, servants were lifting Holland cloths into the air and allowing them to drift down to cover all the furnishings. Daniel’s valet, having just finished packing his master’s clothing and personal items, would begin his retirement on the morrow. Daniel had bestowed him with the five-hundred pounds David had recommended for a settlement. He was especially pleased to see the old man’s eyes widen in disbelief. The rest of the staff would remain in residence, their presence required when Daniel and Clarinda returned for the summer and then again for the Christmas holiday. By then, there would be babes in arms, girls – if David’s claims could be believed.
Clarinda glanced toward the east edge of the property, to where the gravestones were silhouetted in the light from the morning sun. She wondered if David would appear, and then felt a bit of relief when he didn’t. He had all but dismissed her two nights ago when he told her to marry his brother; perhaps his dismissal was as much for him as it was for her.
“Are you ready?” Daniel wondered as he joined her where she stood on the edge of the cut lawn.
Her face suddenly displaying a look of fear, Clarinda glanced over at Daniel and swallowed. “I ... I don’t know,” she answered. She bit her lip, feeling an odd sensation she thought might be morning sickness. It passed as quickly as it it had come, though, and she took a deep breath.
“We’ll have the entire ride back to London. We can talk about everything. We can talk about the wedding. We can talk about the girls. Or, I can spend the trip courting you,” he suggested, his brows wiggling in anticipation. He leaned over and kissed her temple. “Or kissing you.” He watched her lids lower over her eyes and her mouth curl up. Her head settled into the small of his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Or you can sleep in my arms,” he offered, thinking they might be doing that as soon as the following night.
“Mmm,” Clarinda responded, thinking that they would probably do a bit of everything he mentioned during the coach ride back to London. Her attention turned back toward the graveyard. “Do you suppose we’ll ever see him again?” she wondered, her voice catching at the last word.
Daniel wondered the same thing. Truth be told, he wanted to see David one more time. He had questions for his brother, unresolved issues he wanted to deal with now rather than later, when he joined his brother in death many years from now. His brother had died for a reason, he was sure, and Daniel wanted to be sure it was so he could finally marry Clarinda and be her husband for the rest of his life. There might be another reason, but he wanted some kind of assurance his brother’s death held some kind of meaning. “He had better show up at least one more time,” Daniel replied, a bit more harshly than he intended. “I still have some questions for him. And I have that answer for him about his being shot,” he added as his eyebrows lifted.
How could David have forgotten about being shot by a piece of pea gravel? he wondered, once they were in the coach and headed north toward London. Of course, given all the other wounds the two brothers had inflicted on one other over the years, perhaps a few were better left forgotten. He sighed as he wrapped his arms around Clarinda’s shoulders and pulled her against him. For once, he actually enjoyed the long trip to Norwick House.
He would deal with David whenever his brother next appeared.
Chapter 26
Ghost Talk Redux
“So, why now?” Daniel wondered before taking a long drag on his cheroot. He normally only indulged in smoking right after dinner while enjoying a glass of port, but given the eerie presence of his dead brother only a few hours after he and Clarinda arrived back at Norwick House, two hours after dinner seemed just as suitable a time.
David furrowed his brows and gave his brother a quelling glance. “Why now, what?” he responded.
Daniel watched as a tendril of smoke wafted up and around his brother, as if he was physically in the room. “Why did you ... die ... now?” he stammered. “Or last week, I suppose?”
David snorted. “Do you think I chose to die? Now, of all times?” he asked indignantly. “My wife is increasing with child ... with children,” he amended, his pride adding to his indignation. “I was advancing important issues in Parliament. And I was finally beating Barrings at whist!”
Daniel stood up suddenly, his own ire increasing as he watched his brother. “Yes. Yes, I do think you chose to die. And I want to know why,” he insisted. “And don’t tell me because it’s my turn to have your wife as my own.”
Staring at Daniel for a very long time, David’s fierce look softened. “I ... didn’t choose to die. I ... was shot ...”
“You were not shot,” Daniel countered. “I checked with the mortician. He found no evidence of a bullet hole in your body,” he insisted, his own ire disappearing. “And when I asked if he had checked for a wound at the back of your neck, he assured me he had done so.”
David’s eyes widened. “And my,” his hand moved to the back of his head, “My hole was there, right?”
Rolling his
eyes, Daniel finally nodded. “Yes, he found the hole, although it was merely a ... a divot ... from an old wound,” he said in exasperation, not wanting to admit that he had been the one to put the hole there with his precisely shot piece of pea gravel. He didn’t have the time to consider it just then, though. “There was no bullet hole in the back of your neck.”
David seemed shocked by the news. “I was sure ... I was sure I heard a shot.”
Daniel cocked his head. “Were you in front of Jover and Son’s shop, by chance?” he wondered, thinking that the gun shop might have been the source of a gun shot.
“No,” David replied with a shake of his head. “I was in front of Thomas Simpson’s shop. My horse ... he reared up, and I lost my hold. I am quite sure I was dead before I hit the cobbles.”
Daniel sucked air through his front teeth as he imagined the circumstances of David’s death in front of a goldsmith’s shop in the middle of Oxford Street on a busy day. There would have been all manner of conveyances clogging the road – drays and carriages, barouches and carts, town coaches and horses. Perhaps there had even been the sound of a shot – anyone could have discharged a gun, and not necessarily for the purpose of shooting someone. And when the horse reared, David’s head could have struck any number of blunt objects on its way down to the street. “Did your horse rear up at the sound of the shot? Or did something else cause him to panic?”
“Thunder never panics,” David replied, his face quite severe, as if he’d just then been personally offended. “The beast has shown a remarkable affinity to life in the city as well as on the hunting grounds. A gunshot would not have caused him to rear,” he claimed, perhaps a bit too firmly.
The Widowed Countess Page 25