“My husband was killed in a duel, Mr. Madden,” she said evenly, and then turning to those watching, she said, “You are never to pay rents to this man again. He no longer works for Ravenstone. If you see him on Ravenstone property, you are to escort him off it.”
Then she moved her horse closer to him, and held out her hand to him. “The rents, Mr. Madden, if you please.”
He glared at her, then pulled a purse from his pocket, and handed it to her. She weighed the purse in her hand, and smiled.
“You think you have won,” he smirked. “But I know what you have done, and I know someone who will pay me a lot of money for the information.”
She leaned down in the saddle and said, “Mr. Madden, if you really do know what it is I have done, do you not think it unwise to make such open threats?”
“This is not the end.” He turned away from her and made his way to his horse.
“The horse, I believe, belongs to Ravenstone, Mr. Madden,” she called after him. “You will leave him.”
He paused and, turning back to her, smiled and tipped his hat to her, then walked down the road.
Haskell collected the horse and stopped next to her. “We haven’t seen the last of him, have we?”
“Probably not,” she sighed. Then turning Bella back to Ravenstone, she galloped down the road, wondering who would pay for information about her and why.
11
She rode south toward the cottage at Logan Bay, pausing on the hill above the cove. No lugger was moored in the inlet, but smoke rose from the chimney of the cottage, and she urged Bella down the path toward it. She knew she had been seen long ago, and she waved to Haskell who sat on a bench outside the cottage. He rose from his place, putting aside the piece of wood he had been whittling, and took Bella’s reins as she dismounted. It had been a week now since she had dismissed Mr. Madden.
“Haskell, you are well?”
“Aye,” he said.
She turned to glance out at the Bay. “The boys are gone, then.”
“Not expectin’ they’ll be back for ’nother week.”
“He left you in charge?”
“Aye, he did.”
She looked toward the cottage and made her way toward the entry. Haskell did not try to stop her, and she opened the cottage door. Jack turned to her from where he sat beside the fire stirring a pot of boiling soup. She glanced around the cottage, but no one else was there.
“Jack, aren’t you supposed to be in Jersey?” she asked. After his escape from the prison ship, he was supposed to have gone to the Channel Islands with Fleming to avoid recapture. She was surprised and concerned to see him there.
“I was, miss, but I come back on the last trip. Don’t like it much there.”
“But it’s safer for you there,” she frowned.
He shrugged. “Not really, miss. They have warrants and soldiers just like here.”
“I’m supposed to meet Peter here,” she lied. “Where is he?”
Jack opened his mouth then shut it again, and returned to stirring the pot, ignoring her. She cursed under her breath, and then left the warmth of the cottage.
“Haskell, I mean to see him,” she said. “Where in hell’s name is he?”
“I have orders, miss.”
“Orders?” she said. “That little devil works for me. I give the orders.”
“Yes, miss.”
“Well, then?”
He shook his head and she cursed again. She mounted Bella, and pulled her around to return to Ravenstone. “Give him a message, will you. Tell him I need to see him.”
Haskell nodded and she urged Bella back up the path at a gallop. She did not stop in her usual place above the cliffs for long, as the wind was bitterly cold. The ocean waves were choppy and the waters dark. She watched a seagull glide along the cliffs and for a moment, she allowed herself to wonder where Nicholas sailed on the great ocean before her.
Then her thoughts turned to Peter and she headed for the cliffs where the caves were. He must be hiding there, but why? In the two months since the duel, the authorities had announced that they sought a foreign nobleman in uniform, seen riding away from the scene of the duel. They did not even have a name to call him.
In the newspapers, he was simply the Austrian Lieutenant. No one would even suspect Peter. She hadn’t, not even when she was dancing with him, his gloved hand in hers.
He was being cautious, she supposed, and it was good to be cautious.
She trotted away from the cliffs, and noticed a rider seated on his horse watching her. He wore the red uniform of a Dragoon soldier. Recognizing Major Price, she cursed under her breath. She had not seen him since the funeral when he had stared at her from across the grave. Now he was waiting for her, knowing that she would have to pass him on her return to Ravenstone. She had hoped that with Edward’s death he would simply disappear, perhaps be reassigned elsewhere. She rode up to him feigning calmness she did not feel.
“Major Price,” she said in greeting.
“Lady Fairchild,” he smiled. “I see you are recovered.”
“Not fully, no, but the estate requires constant attention, so I am forced to do my part. I am, however, tiring rapidly and must return to Ravenstone.”
“Then allow me to accompany you and ensure your good arrival.”
It was his presence that caused her stress, but she expected that the Major would not be put off easily again.
“Thank you,” she said and urged Bella on.
The Major let her pass, and then reined his horse in next to hers on the road.
“What is it you wish to speak to me about, Major?”
“Astute as usual and so direct.”
“It wastes less time.”
His horse made a sudden lunge to his left when a rabbit darted out in front of them on the road. The Major was taken by surprise and was almost unseated, but managed to bring his horse under control again and find his balance. She suppressed the urge to laugh and fixed her face into lines of concern instead.
“Damned animal,” he cursed and in a fit of temper jerked its mouth severely and dug his heels into its side. Confounded, the horse spun in circles as its rider lashed out with his whip, leaving long red welts on its rump.
“I do believe you are only confusing the animal further,” she said harshly.
“Mind your own business, you bitch,” he snarled.
The insult proved her unease in his presence and she had grown to trust her instincts. She urged her horse into a gallop, not wishing to be caught far from help with the man. She cursed herself for not bringing her pistol or at least a knife, which she usually remembered to do. She glanced back to see that he had spurred his animal into action and was following her at a determined pace. She leaned forward and urged Bella into a faster pace. Her long legs devoured the earth beneath it. A gate in her path would require opening, but she had no wish to slow.
She straightened and pulled back on the reins, collecting Bella from speed to a more controlled gallop. Then, measuring the distance the gate closed on her, she waited for the right moment then dug her heels into Bella’s side. She responded by gathering herself and lifting her front legs up and then pushing off the ground with her hind legs. They sailed over the gate and landed comfortably again, and Georgiana patted Bella’s neck.
“Good girl,” she said and Bella responded with a snort.
Georgiana glanced back to see the Major’s horse balk at his request, planting its front legs in front of the big gate. Again, the Major managed to keep his seat. She felt sorry for the animal, for it would surely receive punishment again, but she did not wait to see what would happen.
She urged Bella into a sprint again and concentrated on reaching Ravenstone. She jumped one more gate before the home stretch, and arriving at the front door, she jumped off Bella before the mare had barely stopped. She left the reins dangling on the ground, with Bella breathing heavily. She hurried inside, taking Elton by surprise. She slammed the door shut behind he
r, and he woke suddenly from his position in his chair.
“Elton, Major Price will arrive soon. Be sure to show him into the drawing room, and tell him I will be down shortly to speak to him.”
“Very good, madam,” he said, still blinking from his rude awakening.
She hurried up the stairs into her room, where she pulled the case from under her bed. She withdrew the pistol, and loaded it. His persistent manner and lack of decorum spoke of desperation. Desperate men were dangerous men and she wanted to be prepared. He must feel some confidence to press her so and she feared what he wanted from her now. She took her time combing her hair and washing her face and hands. Harriet arrived and helped her out of her riding habit and into a dress of soft yellow. She slipped the pistol into her pocket without Harriet noticing and took the servants’ stairs to the kitchen, surprising one of the maids. She stood aside, her arms full of freshly pressed linens.
“Good morning, madam,” she said and curtsied.
“Morning, Elizabeth,” she said, remembering to replace her scowl with a smile.
She reached the kitchen and only finding Cook and Mrs. Bristow, she asked that Harry be located and sent to her. She waited in the kitchen, trying to calm her racing heart and giving the Major time to cool his temper. Mrs. Bristow returned with Harry and he followed her out the kitchen.
“Do you still have the pistol I gave you?” she asked.
He nodded and indicated the direction of the study.
“Load it, and wait outside the drawing room.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“Major Price is here and in a severe temper,” she said. She pulled her own pistol from her pocket and showed it to Harry. “I am hoping his reason has returned and I’ll not need this or you.”
He nodded and trotted toward the study while she waited in the hallway. She walked toward the drawing room door and listened. Pleasant voices in conversation could be heard but not the words themselves. She realized Grace was in the drawing room with the Major. She waited for Harry to take his position outside the door, and then she took a deep breath and entered.
“Here I am, Major,” she smiled. “Forgive me, but I needed to freshen up from my ride.”
He rose from his chair and smiled, completely in control again. “And what a picture of loveliness you are.”
Grace smiled at Georgiana as she seated herself and accepted a cup of tea.
“Major Price has been telling me of his troubles with his horse,” Grace said. “I saw him ride up in a terrible lather, the animal quite demented.”
“I see,” Georgiana said. She sipped her tea carefully as she studied the Major. He and Grace continued their conversation on the merits of spirit in a horse. His hair was perfectly styled and she imagined he must carry a comb on his person. His skin was no longer the angry flushed color of a man in a fit of rage.
“Georgiana, of course, prefers the more spirited animals,” Grace said, doing her duty to bring her into the conversation.
“I do, indeed,” she said. “I find it much easier to guide a spirited animal than to try to constantly urge one without spirit into a faster pace, which I find tedious.”
“But do you not find it equally tiring to keep your guard up in case the animal bolts?” Major Price asked.
“I think of that requirement as a small price to pay for such a beautiful nature. I certainly would not punish an animal unfairly for it shows a littleness of the rider, I feel. If a rider cannot manage a fine horse, he or she should limit themselves to riding a more docile creature.”
She had goaded the Major on purpose to see if he really did have control over himself again. She could tell that by Grace’s expression of confusion that the insult had not been lost on her.
The Major smiled at Georgiana and said, “My dear Miss Claremont, I do not wish to be rude, but could you give me a few moments alone with Lady Fairchild? I have a matter to discuss with her in private.”
He had said it all without once glancing at Grace, his eyes never wavering from Georgiana.
“That is a most inappropriate request, Major,” Grace said, her voice angry as she glanced at Georgiana.
The Major turned to look at Grace. “I promise no harm to her person or reputation.”
Grace looked at Georgiana again, unsure of what to do. Georgiana rose and helping Grace rise from the settee, she guided her to the door.
“Don’t worry,” she said to her in a low voice. “I am perfectly well, and we both know my reputation is gone far beyond worrying about spending a few minutes alone in a drawing room with a man.”
She opened the door and Grace departed, both careful not to react to the presence of Harry on one side of the door and Eye on the other. The two sentries nodded at her then continued their vigilance. Seeing them both made Georgiana feel much better about closing the door, and turning back into the room. The Major still sat in his chair and she returned to her own.
“Now, Major, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Where is the gold?” he said, his voice even.
Stunned and expecting a very different question, she asked, “Gold?”
“Napoleon’s generous payment for the information he received,” Price said.
She placed her teacup on the tray and sat back, placing her hand in the pocket of her skirt. She gripped the pistol wondering suddenly if this had been the Major’s true motive all along.
He was not here to inquire about the Frenchman, as she had expected. She had thought that she would have to convince him she still had no idea who Rochette was. She expected the Major to be angry because she had still not delivered the man or any information about the smuggling ring. She had not expected an inquiry about gold.
“You knew it was Edward all along,” she said.
“Of course, I did,” he said impatiently. “The gold now belongs to the Crown.”
And you are here to make sure they receive it.”
“Precisely.”
She laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. “You will have to forgive me,” she said when she saw his anger returning. “I cannot believe you. I have in my association with the underworld come to regard all motives as suspect and am left to think you were never really interested in catching a spy, only in finding the gold.”
“I don’t give a damn what you believe. I am here for the gold and I mean to leave with it today.”
“I see,” she sighed. “I shall have to disappoint you, for I had not known of its existence and therefore cannot know its very location.”
The Major rose from his chair menacingly, and she pulled the pistol from her pocket and aimed it at him. “Please, Major, do sit down. Unlike your poor horse, I have the ability to defend myself, and I will.”
“You bitch,” he snarled.
“So you have said,” she smiled. “You really must refrain from repeating yourself. It makes you seem rather dull-witted and lacking in imagination, maladies which will hinder your ability to further yourself in life.”
He smiled suddenly and sat down again. “You had Edward killed when you discovered he was the one sending information to France. I must say I do admire your methods, and how cleverly you have managed. Now you have Ravenstone and the gold.”
“I did not kill Edward,” she said. “He died in a duel.”
“A duel you orchestrated by flirting with just the right young man in front of so many witnesses. You knew Edward could never let the offense to his honor stand. I only wonder how you knew the right man for the work that needed to be done.”
“I neither flirted nor wished Edward dead.”
“And yet, here you are, a widow,” he smiled. “And Ravenstone is yours. I find myself more and more intrigued by you. Each new revelation makes me wonder what else you are hiding. Take for example your sudden restoration to health.
“You played a fine part as an invalid, but why? I shall endeavor to discover the truth of it, for you are hiding more than just the gold. Now, on the other
hand, were you to hand over the treasure, I should disappear from your life and let you keep your secrets.”
Georgiana thought briefly of shooting Price and saying it was self-defense. She did not have the gold, and she did not want him to discover her past. The likelihood that he would arrive at the truth about her father’s death was too grave for her to simply dismiss. Edward had spoken to Constable Marsh who had probably shared his suspicions of her involvement in her father’s death.
Edward had most likely confided in Madden, who had threatened her when she dismissed him. Had he meant Major Price when he said someone would pay well for information about her? That information would lead to more questions about why she had killed her father. She felt her finger tighten on the trigger, and watched the Major lower his eyes to the pistol in her lap still aimed at him.
“You are considering my death,” he said evenly. “I would have to advise against it for in the event of my sudden demise I have left a letter with my man of business. Details of Edward’s involvement in giving the French valuable information are spelled out. I have also included your involvement in it and in smuggling. I assure you the letter will be sent to the appropriate authorities.”
She eased her finger from the trigger.
He smiled and said, “A wise decision.”
She sat thinking about her options, but she had none. She could not give him the gold, as she did not have it, and she could not kill him. She would have to retreat from this particular battlefield, and live to fight another day.
“I do not have the gold,” she said. “Do you really think Edward would have told me about it?”
He studied her a moment and said, “I suggest you find it then. I will give you a week.”
“Such generosity I had not hoped for,” she said, as if they spoke of a small gambling debt.
He rose from his chair and giving her a deep bow he left, pausing at the door to look at the sentries posted there. Then Elton opened the front door for him, and the Major strolled out to his horse. She watched him from the window as he mounted, then rode down the drive.
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 22