Shanna

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Whatever you can spare, sir.” The major relaxed a bit. “I would not inconvenience you in any way.” He cleared his throat. “Now, as to my business here. I have been informed that an escaped murderer is here. According to an unsigned letter I received from Richmond, the man goes under the name of Ruark. John Ruark.”

  Silence fell like a shroud over the room. A feather falling to the carpet would have raised a din by comparison. Only Ralston did not give way to absolute surprise. Shanna dared not move, though her eyes went discreetly to Ruark. WIth a sigh of resignation, Ruark turned from the fireplace and met the major’s eyes boldly, a laconic smile on his lips.

  “I surrender myself to you, Major Carter. I shall make no effort to escape.” Ruark nodded toward the soldiers. “No need for violence here.”

  The major’s eyes slowly roamed the room and the tense, waiting faces of the others present. “I believe I shall accept your promise. You realize, of course, you are under arrest?”

  Ruark nodded, and the officer dismissed the two men by the door. He returned his gaze to Ruark, and a smile began to play about his lips.

  “Beauchamp! I should have guessed.” The major repeated Shanna’s words unwittingly and rubbed his jaw in reflective memory. “Ruark Deverell Beauchamp, as I recall.”

  Now Ralston showed the surprise that had been absent earlier. His mouth sagged open, and he stumbled a step toward the officer. “Wha—” His tongue was no lighter than his feet. “Him? Beauchamp?” His finger stabbed at Ruark repeatedly. “Him? But—”

  His dark eyes moved to George and then to Amelia, Gabrielle, Shanna, Jeremiah, and Nathanial. His longest stare of all was at Garland, who smiled sweetly back at him.

  “Oh!” He swallowed. He toyed with the glove on his left hand and finally pulled it off as he retired to the fireplace and took his turn at regarding the coals.

  “You were a captain the last time we met.” Ruark gestured to the officer’s rank.

  “Aye!” The major rubbed his chin again. “I remember very well, Mister Beauchamp, and I am much relieved that I have brought more men this time.”

  “I’m sorry about that, major,” Ruark replied and did seem genuinely apologetic. “I can only suggest that it was being so roughly aroused without explanation that stirred my ire somewhat.”

  Major Carter chuckled. “ ‘Tis my earnest desire that I never be present when your ire is fully roused. I beg you, however, not to worry overmuch about the broken jaw. These times of peace make promotions come very hard. It was the injury which brought my name to the fore and assured the rank to me, preventing at the same time my being cashiered. Good luck it was, albeit rather harsh.” He surveyed the room. “You seem to be a member of the household.”

  “My son.” Amelia’s voice was sharp and tight as she took her husband’s arm. “This has all been a terrible mistake. I am certain Ruark is not guilty of that hideous thing. And we intend to lead our full efforts to proving it.”

  “Of course, madam,” Major Carter returned gently. “You may rest assured that a full investigation will be conducted into this matter. We have much to look into here.” He peered at George. “Sir, it has been a long ride from Williamsburg, and I believe it nearly tea time. I see you have some brewing. I wonder if I might beg a cup.”

  “My hospitality has slipped,” George responded. “Would you prefer something stronger? I have some excellent brandy.”

  “Sir, you are overkind to a poor servant of the crown.” The major grinned as a snifter was pressed into his hand and closed his eyes almost in ecstasy as he rolled the first sip over his tongue. “ ‘Tis a boon to the weary.” He took another sip and enjoyed it no less than the first.

  “Good heavens!” the major suddenly exclaimed. “I’ll be forgetting my boots next.” He fumbled in the inner pocket of his coat before drawing forth a packet of envelopes. “Is a Captain Nathanial Beauchamp present?”

  Nathanial came forward and identified himself.

  “They seek to make the best use of an officer’s time these days,” the major said ruefully. “These be dispatches from London bound to you through the postmaster at Williamsburg and myself. At least one of them bears the royal seal.”

  Taking the letters, Nathanial withdrew to the window where the light was better.

  Shanna came to Ruark and slipped her arm through his, hugging it close. Having witnessed her graceful movement across the room, Major Carter stared at them somewhat uncertainly. He had taken note of the beauty soon after his entry and heaved a sigh of disappointment as Ruark gave the introduction.

  “My wife, sir. Shanna Beauchamp.”

  The major bowed before her. “You are most beautiful, madam! A light in the wilderness as it be. I am indeed pleasured.” He straightened and regarded her carefully. “The name? Shanna? Would you perhaps be—or rather were you—Mistress Shanna Trahern?”

  “Aye,” Shanna replied graciously. “And this is my father, Orlan Trahern.” She swept her hand to the seated one.

  “Lord Trahern!” The major was obviously impressed and hurried to Trahern’s side. “I have heard much about you, sir.”

  “Humph!” Trahern refused the extended hand. “Mostly bad I’d wager, but my temper will be greatly improved when this foolishness about young Ruark is done with. You may inform your superiors, major, that my influence and moneys will also be lent to his cause.”

  The officer was ill at ease. If there were two names and two fortunes that could more upset the peace of the crown, he was not aware of them.

  Nathanial left off his reading by the window and rejoined them. “I believe no moneys need by expended today.” He extended an official-looking document, replete with seals, toward the major. “This is to be delivered to the nearest officer of the crown, sir. Will you accept it?”

  Heaving a reluctant sigh, the major took the letter from Nathanial’s hand. He began to read, his lips moving with his eyes. He glanced at Ruark, set down his glass, and read further. He began to speak the words aloud.

  “. . . Thus in view of new evidences and in light of a petition made by the Marquess de Beauchamp, all proceedings in the case of Ruark Deverell Beauchamp are herein set aside until such time as further investigation has determined the facts in this matter.”

  Major Carter lowered the paper and spoke to the room at large. “It bears the seals of both the Marquess and the Court of Peers.” He looked to Ruark and Shanna, a much-relieved smile spreading slowly across his face. “It seems that you are free, Mister Beauchamp.”

  With a happy cry, Shanna flung her arms about Ruark’s neck and nearly strangled him in her excitement. Relieved sighs were released about the room.

  “Do you mean to say”—Ralston’s strident voice cut through the immediate gaiety, and everyone turned as a body to stare at him—“that an escaped murderer can be set free by a”—he stalked forward and flicked the comer of the document before the major could move it beyond his reach—“by a piece of paper? ‘Tis injustice, I say! A gross miscarriage!”

  The major drew himself to his full height. “This letter explains it all, sir. The woman had a husband and was seeing other men besides. There had been complaints before from men she had robbed. They claimed that after visiting her, none could remember anything but waking up to find themselves dumped a goodly distance from the inn. Further, several gentlemen in Scotland acknowledged Mister Beauchamp’s arrival from the colonies. He could not have fathered her babe as she was well along, and they now suspect the husband of killing her in a jealous rage.”

  “A good English girl was brutally slain and she with child, and now her assailant is to go free?” Ralston had grasped only what he thought pertinent to his case.

  “Mister Ralston!” Trahern bellowed.

  Major Carter casually rested a hand upon his sword. “Do you challenge an order of the Court of Peers, sir?”

  The disapproval of these two men of authority was enough to quiet the agitated Ralston. However, it was the flare of anger in Shanna’s e
yes as she came toward him, that made him retreat.

  He stammered, “I only— Nay! Of course not!” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing convulsively, and stared down at the woman who in untamed rage almost trod upon his long, narrow toes.

  “Part your lips with my husband’s name again, and I will tear them from your face.” Though Shanna’s voice was a bare whisper, Ralston understood her as well as if she had shouted. He nodded eagerly.

  “Aye! Aye! I mean— Never! Anything!”

  Ralston stood very still until she withdrew. He carefully eased his foot from the hearth and brushed the hot ashes from the sole of his boot. He followed Shanna with his gaze until she was safe on her husband’s arm again. The agent had just begun to recover his poise but lost it when Pitney touched his arm.

  “Mister Ralston, I found this. I believe it yours.” The huge man held out the quirt he had shown Ruark earlier and watched the other closely.

  “Oh! Why, thank you.” Ralston was most relieved and accepted the whip. “Aye, ‘tis mine. Most difficult you know to ride with only a willow switch.” He paused and, giving a disgusted grimace, turned the thing over in his hand. “What is this all over it?”

  “Blood,” Pitney grunted. “And hair. Attila’s. It was used to beat the horse until he whinnied and brought Ruark to the stables. But, of course, you would know nothing about that. You were gone the whole night. What did you say your friend’s name was?”

  “Blakely. Jules Blakely,” Ralston answered absently.

  “Blakely. I know the man.” George added the comment from across the room. “He has a cottage just outside Mill Place. I have heard him speak of a relative in England, but ‘twas, let me think,”—he rubbed his chin thoughtfully then eyed Ralston—” ‘twas his wife’s brother.”

  Ralston would meet no one’s gaze and stared at the floor. His voice was hoarse, and almost a whisper when he finally spoke.

  “My sister—when I was but a lad, was falsely accused of thievery and sold into bondage. She—married the man, a colonial.” The shame of this last admission seemed almost more than he could bear.

  Major Carter had been standing by Trahern, taking in all that transpired. He pursed his lips from time to time and finally reached down into the large pocket of his coat to withdraw a rather, thick manual with a plain cover. Leafing quickly through it, he paused to read intently upon a page and began to pace, his head down, deep in concentration. After several circuits of Trahern’s chair, he stopped and launched an amusing oratory.

  “I have been a line officer most of my career, except for that tour in London.” Smiling slightly, he nodded to Ruark. “And hence I am well schooled in the art of battle. Thus, being an officer of the crown in times of peace is another matter. However, the best wigs of the court have put together a manual which is supposed to take the place of experience and is also suggestive and not directive in nature.” He held up the book and waved it a bit for their notice. “It leaves one with a choice of following it to the letter, or of ignoring it and chancing a court-martial. It does say, right here, that when an officer finds in the civil field a matter which seems uncommonly confused and/or suspicious, he must take it upon his own authority to investigate and obtain the facts.” He tapped the page with his finger. “As presumptuous as it may sound, I could not have found better words to describe this situation.”

  He met all the stares he had attracted, turned, and faced Pitney.

  “This matter of the stable. Did you mean to say the fire was deliberate?”

  “No doubt of it,” Nathanial interjected emphatically. “The entrance was secured with a log against it, and my brother had been struck on the head.”

  Under the major’s urging, the tale was told, and at its end the officer flung up his hands in complete bemusement.

  “Gentlemen, please. I am trying to understand this, and ‘tis most confusing. Perhaps ‘twould be best if we started from the beginning.” He turned slowly and surveyed them all, halting as he faced Ruark again. “Mister Beauchamp.” He smiled quickly and his eyes went back to the other two Beauchamp men. “Mister Ruark Beauchamp,” he corrected. “It has much upset me that your name appeared on the hanging orders, yet you stand here apparently little the worse for the event. How can that be?”

  Ruark spread his hands. “I only know that I was taken from my cell, placed in another with other men, then later transferred to a ship which sailed to Los Camellos.” He nodded over the major’s shoulder. “Perhaps Mister Ralston there can better explain. ‘Twas he who arranged the whole of it.”

  “What?” Trahern sat up in his chair and twisted around to stare at Ralston. “You bought him from Newgate?”

  “Bought is hardly the term for it, papa,” Shanna replied for the man. “The gaol keeper, Mister Hicks, had fine regard for shiny coin as I can well attest.” She regarded Ralston closely. “What did Mister Hicks charge for his trouble? One hundred, two hundred pounds?”

  Ralston spluttered and could not meet the major’s eyes. Then he looked at Shanna, as if a new thought dawned. “You have threatened me and accused me on several occasions, madam, but how is it that you wed one Ruark Beauchamp when that same man was lodged in the cellar of Newgate?”

  Trahern turned slowly in his chair to face Shanna with a questioning brow arched. “Hmmm,” he nodded. “That would be most interesting to hear, Shanna, child.” He waited.

  Shanna closely examined the brooch she wore, scuffed at the carpet with a daintily slippered toe, smiled ruefully at Ruark, then drew a deep breath, and met her father’s gaze directly. “It was there I went to seek out a name to please you and fulfill the terms of your wishes. I found one that could not be questioned and whose bearer, I thought, would not burden me overlong. We struck a bargain, we two.” She smiled over her shoulder at Ruark and reached out a hand to him. He took it and stood beside her, slipping an arm protectively about her waist. She spoke again to her father. “The lie was bitter as I gave it, and it turned against me, for when I found out that I was not in truth a widow, I could not admit it.” She leaned comfortably against Ruark. “I am sorry for the deceit, papa, but if I could be certain that the end would be the same, I would do it all again.”

  Trahern laughed merrily to himself and was still chuckling when he looked up at her again. “I was wondering how long you would take that ultimatum. For a while I was sure you had yielded, but now I see you have more than an even share of Trahern blood.”

  Shanna eyed the major hesitantly. “Another man was buried in the coffin I thought was Ruark’s. Perhaps an unnamed corpse bound for potter’s field. Beyond that, I have no knowledge.”

  Pitney stepped forward and took up the tale. “I received the coffin from Mister Hicks at Newgate. In it was an old man, withered and dried, dead of hunger or disease, I could not tell. Whoever the fellow was, he lies well beneath fine stone with a high name upon it. There is little else to tell, only that I found a man who claims to be the husband of the murdered wench in London.” And as the major opened his mouth to speak, Pitney held up a hand to give him pause. “I know now that the man is suspect. At this moment he is in Richmond. The man was well in his cups in London and only told me then that Ruark could not have done it.”

  Pitney saw Shanna’s accusing stare and hastened to add, “When I found that Ruark had escaped the hangman, I saw no reason to make a further stir over it. ‘Twas only in Richmond that the girl’s husband said he’d soon be able to prove Ruark innocent, so I left him to do what he was intending. It might have been a ruse to see himself clear.” Pitney shrugged. “I trusted the man.”

  “There was a girl murdered on our island,” Trahern mused aloud. “And she traced an ‘R’ in the sand.”

  Pitney turned his gaze to Ralston and rested it there until that one began to chafe beneath the weight of it.

  “You accuse me?” Ralston barked. “I abhorred the little twit, but I had no reason to kill her. She was nothing to me.”

  Shanna frowned at him. “Milly was
with child, and you gave her coins. Ruark and I both saw you with her in the hall at the manor house.”

  Ralston waved his narrow hand. “She was to bring me fish. ‘Twas all.”

  “Why did you follow Ruark about the island?” Pitney questioned. “I saw you on many occasions doing so.”

  The thin man’s jaw flexed angrily. “You would like to accuse me of trying to murder him, wouldn’t you? You and she”—he gestured to Shanna—“connived in London behind my back to arrange the marriage,” Ralston sneered. “Well, I didn’t know he was wed to her when I saw them together near the mill. Mister Ruark was free enough with his hands to make me realize there was something between them. As I was responsible for him being on the island, I knew if he were accused of tampering with the squire’s daughter, questions would be aroused, and I would have to answer more than a few of them myself. I only learned that they were married on the sea voyage here, and as soon as we landed I sent a letter to the authorities. I understood Mister Ruark a murderer, don’t you understand? Mister Hicks said as much.”

  Shanna and Ruark exchanged glances that communicated the fact that they had both caught the significance of what Ralton had said. Besides Pitney, only Milly had known of their marriage.

  “Mister Ralston,” Pitney rasped out. “You are an amazingly innocent man.”

  “Major!” Ralston called for the attention of the officer. “I am a citizen of England, due the protection of the law.” He worried at the glove he still wore on his right hand, snatched it off, and flung the both of them to a table. “If anyone is to accuse me, let him do it in a court. Then I will answer. But this mockery is unbearable. I demand the protection of a king’s officer.”

  Amelia had moved to Ruark’s side as the man finished his tirade, and now her elbow began to dig at his ribs. He glanced down at her, and she cast her eyes at Ralston. Bemused, Ruark frowned and with a sigh Amelia pointed to Ralston’s right hand. Ruark looked at the man’s hand and frowned at his mother again. Amelia’s brows drew together, and she gestured again. This time Ruark looked closely and suddenly saw her reason for such insistence.