by Lynn Collum
A frown appeared on the captain’s face. “You did?”
The solicitor nodded. “Sent the check express on Monday.”
The captain fell silent again.
“Mr. Wilkins,” Jacinda said, “are you telling me that I am without funds?” For herself, she wasn’t frightened since she’d been without funds since before Trudy died. But Jacinda had an entire estate full of people depending on her, tenants and family alike.
“Not nearly as bad as that, my dear.” His kind gaze settled on her. “The estate is yours and while the income is modest, it will see you through. As to your dependents,” the old gentleman looked to the Deveres. “I shall be forced to reduce their income to fifty pounds per annum, each.”
“Fifty pounds!” Mrs. Devere shrieked. “Why that is no better than what a governess might expect. We shan’t be able to get by on that amount! Why, we’ve scarcely gotten by on what little we did receive. Jacinda, you cannot allow him to do that! Giles must live like his friends, like a gentleman. How can he do that on a paltry fifty pounds a year!” The lady fell to hysterically weeping.
Prudence hurried round the table to her mother’s side, her face pink from embarrassment at the lady’s outburst. “Mama, I do assure you that we can make do. We have little expense here. It’s not Jacinda’s fault.” Mrs. Tyne gripped her mother’s hand, but the lady was too distraught to control her emotions and soon Prudence was forced to ask that they be excused. She led her sniffling mother away.
Jacinda put her cup down, for she had no taste for food or drink at the moment. “Mr. Wilkins, surely there is some way I can better provide for my aunt and cousins?”
“I fear you cannot, my dear. However, I made several inquiries on Devere’s behalf about positions in London and I am certain I could find him a post with one of the lords who are active in Parliament.” The solicitor nodded at Giles.
“Live in London!” The young man’s eyes brightened on that final word. Then he slumped back. “Mama would never allow me to take such a post. She will think it beneath me. She is always reminding me that were if not for my three Devere cousins in Kent, I should be a viscount.”
Mr. Wilkins’s brows rose at that odd bit of nonsense but he merely said, “I shall speak to her at supper this evening when she is calmer. I am certain that Jacinda will be perfectly happy to continue to house your mother and sister here.”
Jacinda agreed she would and surprisingly, Giles seemed quite content. He began to make inroads in the food on his plate. Jacinda, with little hunger, pushed her plate aside and excused herself. Cousin Millie offered to see her to her room, but Jacinda insisted that she remain and finish her lunch. The captain rose to escort her to the door. There he kissed her hand. For Jacinda it seemed a strangely intimate moment even in a room full of people.
“I will stay and play host to our guests, my dear. And don’t worry, this estate is sound. It will provide all that you need.”
Jacinda stared into his green eyes. She couldn’t quite explain, but she took comfort from his confidence. She was too overwhelmed at the moment to think clearly. She bid him good afternoon and departed to her room to gather her wits and to rest.
The gold drawing room stood empty that evening when Jacinda arrived to await the others and the summons for supper. Being early, she strolled to the set of double doors that opened onto the terrace. It was a lovely evening that had cooled from the day’s warmth. A soft breeze from the west ruffled her curls but she didn’t care, for the scent of gardenia it carried was so pleasant. The colorful array of roses, peonies, and larkspur beckoned her, so she strolled out into the gardens to enjoy the peaceful evening.
She wondered if her Aunt Devere would be joining them for supper. Surely by now the lady’s shattered nerves had been calmed and she’d accept the changes in her circumstances. With Giles working, they would be far better off than before. Such a post would certainly make Jacinda feel less guilty about the reduction in funds the solicitor would soon be making.
She came to the gate at the end of the garden. Looking back, she could see that the drawing room remained empty so she moved through the gate and crossed the path into the rear garden. But she discovered that garden was occupied. Her Aunt Devere and Prudence were having a heated discussion while they sat on a bench. Jacinda hesitated a moment and watched the ladies. Prudence seemed to grow frustrated and threw up her hands. Without a backward glance, she hurried back to the manor, leaving her mother alone. Not wanting to intrude on her clearly agitated aunt, Jacinda veered up the path towards the stables instead.
As she moved along the gravel path, she determined that she would push all her worries about the Deveres from her mind for the night. Her gaze was drawn to the pasture, where the shorthorn cattle, newly delivered from Yorkshire, were grazing. They had been a suggestion of Weems during her first days at Chettwood, and, with her cousin’s council, they decided to purchase the stock with the funds from the strongbox. It occurred to her that Millicent had maintained the estate quite well, but there had been few improvements or innovations. Her father had never really worked to make the estate profitable due to his income from the foundry, and her cousin had very much followed his pattern. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t make Chettwood provide a good income once she gained control. The captain had assured her it was possible.
A certainty that she would manage settled over her. There had been a part of her that had dreaded coming back home. It had been the thought of being useless and sheltered once again after so many years of taking care of herself. The loss of the foundry made her realize that there would be a great deal to do. The estate could be brought up to its full potential.
A loud shout echoed in the growing darkness. She turned in the direction of the stable, aware that was where it had come from. She hurried to see what had happened. She’d only gone some ten yards when Tobias came running up the path towards her.
“Mrs. Morrow! Mrs. Morrow!” The name always triggered feelings of guilt that she was being untruthful with her relatives. “Mrs. Morrow, there’s been an accident. It’s Ben. He’s taken a bad fall. I told them lads not to go up in that loft but they snuck up the ladder after the other grooms went home for the night. I was out back unloadin’bales of straw from the wagon what were just delivered.”
Jacinda couldn’t breathe for a moment. Ben couldn’t be seriously hurt. One important reason for coming home was to bring him to a place that was safe. She lifted her skirts and hurried after the groom.
Two lanterns illuminated the main aisle of the stable. In the soft glow of light Ben lay still in the fresh straw at the foot of the loft ladder. Cal, one of the stable lads who’d taken him fishing, knelt beside him. Above the boys she could see a ladder rung hanging loose, as if it had given way beneath Ben’s weight. She arrived at his side and could see he was in pain. A large lump had begun to swell at the side of his head.
“How badly are you hurt?”
His attempt to grin twisted into a grimace, and a deep groove etched his brow. “Cal and I just wanted to see the kittens. O www—” he groaned and grabbed at his head.
“Never mind about that. We must take you to the house.” Jacinda ran her hands along both arms and legs to search for broken bones. He winched when she got to his right ankle.
“My leg and head hurt the most.” Jacinda saw a hole torn in his breeches. Blood stained the edges of the tattered material. He would survive but needed a doctor.
She brushed the hair from his forehead and kissed him beside the swelling. “Never fear, we shall have you feeling better before you sleep.”
The lad nodded his head and tested the growing lump. “Just my luck to fall in the summer. If only there was some icicles about to keep the swelling down, like when I tumbled down the Wapping stairs last December, I’d be right as rain in the morning.”
Jacinda remembered the incident well. She’d been furious with him for being out after dark. But that had been quickly forgotten when a kind Russian sailor had brought
the injured lad home. In his broken English, he had suggested they pull icicles from the eaves above their window to use to reduce the swelling and pain. It had worked.
That memory triggered an idea. “We have an icehouse here, but I cannot be certain there is still ice this late in the season.” She rose and looked at the man and boy who awaited her orders. “Cal, run ahead and have Stritch send to Westbury for the doctor. Tobias, carry Ben to his room. I’ll go to the icehouse and see what I can find.” She moved aside as the large groom stepped in and scooped up Ben.
“Jack, don’t go there alone, it’s not safe.” The lad looked over the groom’s shoulder as they started up the aisle.
“Don’t worry. The icehouse is only twenty yards or so into the woods at the back of the west pasture. It will only take a moment and I shall be there and back before the doctor can come from the village.”
Before Ben could say more, Tobias carried the lad out the stable doors.
Alone, Jacinda helped herself to one of the lanterns and an empty water bucket. She hurried from the stables, making her way to the icehouse.
Heading out the rear door, she passed the partially unloaded straw wagon, crossed the meadow in the fading light, and entered the woods. The lantern’s light held back the night as she stepped under the canopy of trees. Even in the lonely woods, her thoughts were on Ben. Hopefully all his injuries were superficial and he would be back on his feet in no time.
The lantern’s light soon caught the gray stone walls of the icehouse, built sometime in the previous century by a former owner of the estate. It was a rather large building but she knew that its interior was much smaller, the walls being some three feet thick. The icehouse looked much like the tenant cottages except for a few differences, most notably that the roof came to within two feet of the ground. This was due to the fact that much of the interior was underground; a man-made cave, as it were. Secondly, there wasn’t a single window. And lastly, a set of narrow steps went up the wall and along the sloping roof to the peak, where a heavy trapdoor had been fashioned into the slate tiles so that it was barely visible.
The trapdoor was only used during the winter, when ice was cut from the lake and brought to be stored. She opened the lower door, which would give her access to the main storage area. She held the lantern up and illuminated a set of stone steps leading downward to a second door at the bottom. Much like in a mine shaft, wooden beams arched about the passageway to hold the stones in place. Jacinda stepped into the stairwell, taking the time to close the outside door behind her. That done, she descended. The air around her became notably cooler and there was a damp smell of wet stone. Hopefully this meant there was ice left from last March’s harvest. She opened the second door and stepped onto a wooden platform some ten feet above the floor in a small room. The sound of dripping water echoed in the open space. She could see a set of wooden stairs on the far wall that went to the ceiling, where the underside of the trapdoor could be seen.
In one corner, the bright glint of ice reflected the lantern light. Ice picks hung on the wall at the bottom of the stairs. She made her way down, noting water on the floor from the constant melting. She grabbed a pick from the peg where it hung and made her way over slippery stones to what ice remained.
She set her lantern on the floor and the pail she’d brought beside one of the remaining chunks, and began to pick at the ice. It broke quite easily due to the long time in storage. Hopefully, Stritch could find some oil cloth to keep the water from saturating Ben’s bed, or perhaps a bowl would do.
She’d just put the last large piece of ice in the full pail when a thump and shattering glass sounded on the door at the top of the platform. Someone or something was behind that door. All her fears about returning to Chettwood rushed back. She’d been a fool to come out here alone. Someone must have been watching her every move to know she was here. Her grip tightened on the ice pick.
Jacinda grabbed her lantern and climbed up the stairs, then hung the lantern beside the door. Taking a deep breath and positioning the ice pick to repel an attack, she wrenched opened the door.
Flames leapt out at her. An inferno consumed the entire stairway. Someone had stuffed a bale of straw in the passageway, then tossed a lit lantern on top of it. The narrow stairway was completely impassable and worse, the old wooden beams were on fire. Someone was trying to burn the place down with her inside.
Just then movement caught her eye. Jacinda realized the upper door was wide open. A white face stared down at her with satisfaction. How could it be? Jacinda shouted over the crackling flames. “Aunt Devere, why?”
A strange, demented look settled in the lady’s eyes. “It should have all belonged to my Prudence.” With no explanation, the lady disappeared into the darkness.
Jacinda backed into the main ice room, horrified at what was happening. Seeing no hope for escaping up the stairwell, she turned and spied the wooden stairs across the room. Hope filled her as she raced for them. She no longer needed her lantern since the flaming doorway lit the room.
In the ceiling above her the heat and smoke pooled, but she held her breath and climbed upward. She reached the trap door, but the smoke was so thick she could barely see. She ran her hand over the wood, but found no latch. Her eyes watered and she coughed, but she pulled her skirt up to cover her face, then pushed with all her might against the wooden portal. To her horror it refused to open. There must have been a latch on the outside.
The smoke grew so thick that she edged back down the stairs and watched the rapidly spreading fire below her. The wooden steps at the inner door were being slowly eaten by flames, while others were inching up the beams toward the ceiling.
Fear gave her strength to rush the trapdoor once again, but to no avail. It remained shut tight. Within seconds the smoke was unbearable, forcing Jacinda to move back to the bottom of the stairs. Out of ideas, she stood with her back to the cool stone wall and watched the fire spreading. Certainty that she would die filled her. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she wondered what would happen to Ben. Instinctively she knew that Captain Morrow would make certain he was cared for even if her family would not.
As the captain’s face came to her mind, a pain pierced her heart. She loved him. She didn’t know for certain when the respect had turned to love but as she faced certain death, she knew that she loved him with all her being. She could only pray that he wouldn’t blame himself that they’d failed to unmask Aunt Devere as the killer. She loved him and would never be able to tell him, never!
A loud crack sounded and the burning door frame shifted and fell onto the platform that groaned under the heavy weight. Jacinda slid down the wall to the wet floor and covered her face. She didn’t want to watch the fire’s steady progress up the beams.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Drew tugged at his cravat as he hurried down the stairs. He’d spent the afternoon handling correspondence from his ship about his return. He’d also written the head of Bow Street regarding a request for information about the Blanchett investigation. Last, he’d jotted notes to send to Berwick, his father’s new steward. When he’d finally gotten to his room, James was nowhere to be found, so he’d had to manage on his own. Now he was late and hoped he hadn’t kept the others waiting long.
He’d just reached the front hall when the front door opened and Tobias stepped inside with an injured Ben in his arms. The groom was clearly looking for someone to tell him what to do, for he stopped and looked in search of a household servant to take over the boy’s care.
Drew went straight to the boy and lifted his hair to inspect the swelling above his eye. “What happened?”
Ben reached out and grabbed the gentleman’s lapel. “I took a tumble, Captain, but that ain’t important. Jack’s gone on an errand to the icehouse.” He tugged at the coat the better to make his point. “It ain’t safe, and I told her so, sir.”
Drew quickly inspected the lad’s limbs and, finding no broken bones, ordered Tobias to take Ben to his room. “I’ll go fin
d her, lad. Where is this icehouse?”
Tobias gestured with a nod of his head. “Go to the stables, sir. Out beyond the carriage house in the west meadow ye’ll find a path through the trees. Ye need a lantern to show ye the way in the dark. Take one from the stables.”
Anger stirred in Drew as he made his way to the stables. What had she been thinking to go off alone? Short of locking her in her room, he was his wit’s end as to what to do. Hopefully no one would expect her to be out after dark. He wouldn’t be comfortable until she was at his side. There was no moonlight due to an approaching storm. By the time he reached the stables, a strange disquiet overtook him. The double doors to the building opened to a black void. He could hear the horses nickering and moving about in their stalls. Both lanterns that usually lit the main aisle were gone. A sense of foreboding took hold of him.
He moved toward the meadow, picking up his pace. Coming round the end of the large building, light flickered in the woods. At first, he thought it was Jacinda’s lantern, but as he drew near the trees, he saw flames licking the side of a building. He cried, “FIRE! FIRE IN THE WOODS!” He could only hope someone would heard him. If the woods caught fire, it might get out of control and burn the carriage house, stables, and even the manor.
He raced through the woods to the burning building. The only door was engulfed in flames. “JACINDA!” he shouted.
For a moment he thought he heard laughter in the woods, but decided it was only the wind. He moved closer to the fiery doorway. “JACINDA!”