The Baron's Wife

by Maggi Andersen

  ***

  After lunch, Laura walked over to Cilla’s cottage to invite her to Nathaniel’s birthday dinner.

  Cilla was dressed in her painter’s smock. There was a smudge of red paint on her fingers, and the smell of oil paint and turpentine wafted through the rooms. In her studio nook, a painting rested on the easel, covered with a cloth.

  “May I see it?” Laura asked.

  “I never reveal my work until it’s completed,” Cilla said, her smile lacking humor.

  “Very well.” She smiled at the older woman, pleased to see her. Cilla was capable of extravagant and flamboyant gestures. But right now, she was the closest thing to a friend Laura had in this part of the world. “A landscape or a portrait?”

  Cilla shook her head. “You are impatient. Care for tea?”

  “No, thank you. I came with an invitation.” Laura explained about the dinner as they sat together on the sofa.

  “Nathaniel’s birthday. He will enjoy that.”

  Laura grimaced. “I hope so. I don’t know many people here yet, apart from you and another couple Nathaniel has invited. There’s also the vicar and his wife and the Thrompton ladies. I think Nathaniel will invite Hugh Pitney as well. You will come?”

  “Of course I shall. You can’t have odd numbers at the table.”

  Laura eyed her, wondering if Cilla was being serious. “Nathaniel doesn’t seem to welcome a fuss. Perhaps it’s due to his childhood. His mother died while he was away at school. I don’t suppose you remember her.”

  “Vaguely. She was a pretty woman. Seldom here—caught up in social affairs. I doubt Nathaniel saw much of her.”

  “Even so, a boy would be sad to lose his mother so young.”

  Cilla tilted her head. “I dare say.”

  Laura realized her motives were painfully transparent and her need to understand her husband far too obvious. “Theo Mallory has returned to Wolfram. Did you know?”

  “I heard. Nothing much happens in Wolfram Village without everyone knowing.”

  Except for how a young mother-to-be could plunge to her death over a cliff. “Why did Mallory leave his position here, do you know?”

  “Nathaniel probably fired him. If he did, he had good reason.”

  “He would never be unfair. He’s a stickler for correctness.” Except in the bedchamber, she thought with a rush of remembering. She rose and walked around the room, bending to smell lilies in a vase on the table.

  Cilla examined a fingernail, picking at crimson paint. “A maid from the abbey told me she thought Amanda carried Theo’s baby. Not true, of course.”

  Shocked, Laura stared at her. “Is she still in Nathaniel’s employ?”

  “Mina left Wolfram about the same time as Mallory. I thought maybe she went with him. She was jealous of Amanda. Wanted Mallory for herself.”

  “How can people be so vile?”

  “They can and frequently are,” Cilla said, her eyes bleak.

  Laura’s thoughts had been centered on Nathaniel and Amanda. Had venomous gossip been leveled at Cilla too? “Gossip is very often untrue. Vicious stories made up by people with too much time on their hands. Have you heard anything said about this in the village?”

  “Not a word. The staff wouldn’t spread that lie. They are very loyal to Nathaniel. Some in the village suspect Nathaniel killed Amanda. And if a rumor spread that she was carrying Mallory’s baby, it would have given Nathaniel a good reason to have killed her, don’t you think?”

  Laura stared at her, horrified. “You are sure that she and Mallory weren’t lovers?”

  Cilla annoyed Laura by shrugging. “Who knows what people get up to? If Amanda had wanted him, she would have had him.”

  Laura frowned. It was a harsh thing to say about a friend who could not defend herself. “That’s not very nice.”

  “No. But realistic.” She put a hand on Laura’s arm. “Come, my dear. It’s all in the past. Most unfortunate to have that man back here again though, dredging up all the memories. But Nathaniel will likely banish him from Wolfram.”

  “I would rejoice if he did. I disliked Mallory on sight.”

  “Yes, I believe you would, Laura.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You’re more intelligent than Amanda.”

  Do men prefer less complicated women? Perhaps her mother was right. Troubled, Laura left Cilla and walked across the park. Amanda might be gone, but she left a tide of misery and pain in her wake. She found the possibility that Amanda had carried Mallory’s child difficult to believe. More likely the spite of a disgruntled maid. Nathaniel must be aware of the gossip. Tears welled up, and she whisked them away. She wanted to fly to him and comfort him but feared he wouldn’t welcome it. Not when he’d made Amanda’s bedchamber a shrine he still visited and left flowers on her grave. For surely it must be him. Who else could it be?

  The huge oaks threw deep violet shadows across the lawns. The trees were turning, and there was a new crispness to the air. Autumn was upon them. The season would be beautiful here. “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” Laura quoted. The sickly poet, Keats, had a good reason to feel melancholic. But autumn always seemed a sad season to Laura too. She loved to be outdoors and disliked the end of bright summer days, the long, dreary nights of winter approaching.

  As she walked, a worry she’d dealt with during her sleepless nights gripped her with a new sense of urgency. What if she couldn’t give Nathaniel a son? They made love almost every night. Why wasn’t she with child? Her mother had said that was why Nathaniel had married her, and although Laura hadn’t wanted to believe it, it was true that he needed an heir. Could their marriage be happy if the years went by with no children to bring them closer?

  She drew in a sharp breath. She must see Aunt Dora. She was even prepared to believe the Tarot. If a reading gave her some hope.

  Reaching the lane, a sense of purpose drove her to hurry. She would write immediately and try to persuade Dora to forgo her London soirées for a visit to Cornwall. Even as Laura formed the words of her letter in her mind, she suffered another stab of guilt. She hadn’t yet invited her mother.

  Chapter Eighteen

  That evening, Nathaniel took his time over dinner and was rather pensive. It had grown late when they settled in the library.

  “What happened today?” She’d given up waiting for him to explain.

  “Hugh and I suspect Theo Mallory could be mixed up in this new smuggling ring, and we have little doubt he was involved in the last one.” He took a large swallow of brandy. “But he agreed to accompany us to the police station.”

  Laura was surprised and pleased that he was so open with her. “Mallory is in jail?”

  He scowled. “No proof. But he was eager to provide us with some names.” Nathaniel rolled his shoulders. “Every man should have the opportunity to defend himself, I suppose.”

  Laura wondered if he was thinking he should be allowed the same.

  “Pitney believes Mallory is in it up to his neck, and I agree. But Mallory did give us the ringleader in London. He plans to get his back pay and disappear from Wolfram before word gets out. It appears that this smuggling net spreads far wider than we initially thought.”

  “I’m surprised smuggling still goes on. I thought the government put a stop to it years ago.”

  He shrugged. “It will always go on where there’s money to be made. It’s part of Cornwall’s deep-rooted history. The Cornish coast has been a favorite spot for contraband, and the locals supported the free traders. Some still do. A hundred years ago, the excise men were seen to be the villains. Contraband was blatantly moved around during daylight. Smugglers hid their French brandy in mineshafts and the caves around the coast. Their local knowledge helped to keep them one step ahead of the authorities.” He paused for another swallow, then put down the empty glass. “But when times are hard, folk will try to make money wherever they can. They even hid here in the abbey at one time.”

  Laura thought of the noises s
he heard at night. She shivered. “Might they still?”

  “No chance of that.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t be uneasy, Laura. Customs are onto them. We’ll let the law deal with them.”

  “So, that’s the end of it?” She prayed that it was. She hated to see him so tired and defeated.

  “It had better be. If this isn’t quickly solved, my standing in the Lords will be worth nothing. And my plans for change will lie in ashes.”

  Laura leaned forward, yearning to comfort him. “How did you discover the contraband?”

  “Hugh found boxes containing tobacco and other items in one of the estate cottages. They’d brought them in under the cover of darkness.” He rubbed the back of his head where his black hair tapered neatly to his collar. “When it happened over two years ago, I was involved with other pressing matters. I let Mallory get away without questioning him further.”

  “Why haven’t you told me any of this?”

  She caught a flash of doubt in his eyes. “I wanted to deal with it first. I didn’t want you to be worried.” He shrugged. “And I don’t like the idea of seeing disappointment in your eyes when you look at me. I promised you a good life here, Laura. It has not been quite what you hoped for, has it?”

  Did he refer to Wolfram or to their marriage? She drew in a breath, deeply moved by his need for her to respect him. “You could never disappoint me.” She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers in his long, warm ones. “I shall always believe in you.”

  Nathaniel squeezed her hand with a grateful smile. “There may be times when you find that difficult, sweetheart.”

  He withdrew his hand and rose to pour himself another brandy from the decanter. He was a measured man in many ways and always stopped at two brandies after dinner. His actions showed how upset he was. Her breath caught in sympathy.

  “Darling, you’re a good man. I know that.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight. I’m a little tired.” He held his hands out to help her rise. “Shall we go up?”

  “I’ve selected the menu for your birthday dinner,” Laura said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere as they climbed the stairs.

  “It’s sweet of you to do this for me, Laura, but I don’t want a lot of fuss.”

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Everyone has been invited. I asked Cilla this afternoon.”

  “Very well. If you must.” At the top of the stairs, he pulled her against him. “I’ll tell you what I’d like for my birthday,” he murmured, his cheek against her hair. “To take you out in my boat. I planned to before this, but somehow I haven’t gotten around to it. Winter will be closing in soon enough.”

  “I’ve only been on the water once,” Laura said, her voice sounding strained. “That was in your rowboat.” Her heart sank at the memory. “I can’t swim.”

  He stroked her chin with his knuckles. “A landlubber, eh? I’ll look after you, never fear. You’ll grow to love it. There’s nothing like the rush of waves as the sailboat speeds across the water driven by the wind.” His eyes took on a faraway look as if he imagined himself there. “Sailing gives you a wonderful sense of freedom. You don’t know you’re alive until you’re out on the ocean.”

  Unconvinced, she fought for a way to delay it. “But I have so much to do for your birthday dinner.”

  “You have a few weeks, and Rudge will take care of everything.”

  That was exactly what she did not intend to happen. “Despite Rudge, I will still have much to do. And these affairs require time to organize.”

  He arched a black brow, his eyes warm and knowing. “You don’t wish old Rudge to get the upper hand, eh?” It was like the sun coming out from behind a rain cloud. Nathaniel understood her feelings. He was getting to know her, as she was him.

  She grinned. “It’s my first dinner party. I would like to arrange it.”

  “Then do so, sweetheart. We’ll sail tomorrow for just a few hours. I’ll take you around Wolfram and along the coast. You can’t fully appreciate the beauty of Cornwall unless you see it from the water.”

  “I’d like that.” It was a concession of sorts. He would allow her to organize her party and she would go out in the boat with him, although she dreaded it.

  When Nathaniel came to her bedroom, Laura hoped to continue their conversation before they lost themselves in each other. In her dressing gown, her hair loose over her shoulders, she greeted him with a light kiss. “I can imagine you sailing around the coast as a youth. I want to hear more about your boyhood.”

  He settled beside her on the bed, toying with her long tresses, which always seemed to fascinate him. “My parents were busy people. I wasn’t disciplined much in those days. Left to my own devices. When I wasn’t with my tutor, I roamed free with the other village children. I swam, rode my pony and fished.”

  “Did it all end when you were sent away to school?”

  “Everything changed after that.” A guarded note strained his voice.

  “I can see by your father’s portrait that you have inherited his coloring, but you don’t favor him in looks.” Nathaniel’s father had thin lips and a stern, rather arrogant expression. “What was your mother like?”

  He dropped the lock of her hair he’d been winding around his finger. “I remember little of her. Why all these questions?” He pushed away from her and stood. “I’m sorry, Laura. That was rude of me. Must be more tired than I realized. Forgive me. I’ll say good night.”

  The panel slid back and he was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nathaniel had had a horrendous few days, Laura told herself. So much had happened. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t to blame for him leaving her, but she still lay in bed, tense and unsure. As sleep continued to elude her, she ran over the events of the evening. He was concerned that the rumors of smuggling would taint his reputation in Parliament. The news of smuggling was worrying, of course, but that didn’t account for his behavior; his heavier than usual drinking perhaps, but not what followed. It had something to do with his mother. Dispirited, she realized it wasn’t that he wanted too much from her, but too little. She could not live like this. Laura wiped her eyes, knowing she could not let it end there.

  She left the bed. Having spent some time locating the spring which opened the space between their connecting rooms some days ago, she pressed it. The oak paneling slid back to reveal an empty room.

  With a deep breath, Laura whirled around to snatch up her dressing gown. She left her bedchamber, her candle held high. Amanda’s room lay in darkness. Laura turned and went downstairs, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house.

  The great hall lay silent under a fragile silver net of moonlight. In the corridor beyond, the wall sconces sent flickering shadows over the walls. Holding her candlestick high, Laura opened the door to Nathaniel’s study. It was empty, as was the library.

  Puzzled, she returned to the hall, her candle fluttering. There was a draft from somewhere. Might a door be open? She retraced her steps, finding the door to the rose garden bolted shut. At the kitchen steps, the breeze strengthened, lifting her gown and swirling around her legs. She shivered with a sense of foreboding.

  Below her, the cavernous kitchen lay in darkness. Laura hesitated, then her fingers gripped the banister, as a need to know propelled her forward. She stepped down into the cold room. The stoves would not be lit until daybreak. The servants’ hall beyond was empty, as all the staff retired early. A current of air infused with the briny tang of the sea whipped up the stairs from the wine cellar and beyond. The door leading to the water’s edge must have been left open.

  Laura ventured down a few steps, as her guttering candle threatened to go out. She balked at going further. A loud scrape. The heavy clunk of a lock sliding into place. The breeze died away. The hollow sound of footsteps on the stairs followed. It must be Nathaniel, and she didn’t want him to find her here.

  She retraced her steps as the well of darknes
s below lightened. Heart racing, she hurried up the kitchen stairs. Gaining the ground floor, she began to run. She almost fell into her bedchamber and shut the door. Leaning against it, gasping for breath, she put her ear to the door and waited. Nothing, not even the reassuring sound of Nathaniel coming to bed.

  Laura went to the window. Down in the garden dotted with gravestones, a shadowy figure appeared, darting over the moonlit ground before disappearing. She watched for some time, but nothing moved beyond the sway of the trees. Nathaniel had stated flatly that the smugglers had gone. Was he withholding anything that might alarm her? She shivered and sought the warmth of her bed. Huddling there, unease and frustration churned her stomach. He had pleaded exhaustion and the need for sleep. But where was he?

  ***

  The next morning, Laura woke to the rasp of the sliding panel. She stretched as Nathaniel drew the bedclothes back and joined her in the bed, taking her his arms.

  He nuzzled her shoulder. “Sorry, my love. I was a bear last night. Best that I left you.”

  His musky scent and hard body tempted her, but Laura pulled away. She propped her head on an elbow to gaze into his smoky eyes that didn’t always reveal the truth. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Wonderful. I feel more like a lion than a bear this morning.” He untied the neck of her nightgown and kissed his way down to her breast with obvious intent.

  Laura moved out of his embrace. “You weren’t in your bed last night, Nathaniel.” She was gratified to see surprise widen his eyes. He thought it so easy to fool her. “I doubt you were in the house.”

  He sat up, his dark brows meeting in a frown. “You looked for me?”

  Her lips trembled. “Yes.”

  “Don’t do it again!” Nathaniel rolled out of bed to pace the carpet.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Can’t you do what I ask of you? It’s so little, surely.”

  She took a deep breath. “You think it a small thing to imprison me in my room at night?”

  He sat on the bed and took her hands in his strong grip. “Promise me, Laura.”