Lord Satan

by Judith Laik

  The fish darted sideways, and she fell full length into the stream. Finally, she grabbed her prey and stood up, holding it aloft, shrieking in triumph. At that moment, she became aware of a dark mass in her field of vision and glanced up to see Lord Neil, on his big black hunter, on the opposite bank.

  Amusement lit his eyes, and he said, “Venus rising from the sea.”

  Libbetty almost lost her grip on the squirming, slippery fish. Struggling to keep it, she said, “You could have helped.”

  “You were managing quite well, and I was far too entertained to think of joining in.”

  She glanced resentfully at Lord Neil’s immaculate attire, contrasted against her soaking gown pasted to her skin and her hair dripping down her back.

  At that moment the powerfully battling fish won its freedom, striking the water with a huge splash. It mustn’t get away with the hook in its mouth. She plunged into the water once more.

  She could not defeat the beast in its own element, and it quickly swam downstream out of reach. Libbetty saw a flash of black as Lord Neil rode along the bank and lifted her gaze in time to see him leap from his horse’s back into the stream. He had timed his leap perfectly and came up holding the fish.

  Laughing, with an exultant gleam in his eyes and water sheeting off his buckskins, Lord Neil splashed over to Libbetty and, removing the hook, presented his trophy. “You have a most unorthodox method of fishing, Miss Bishop. Most people content themselves with using a rod and bait.”

  Lord Neil’s recklessness ignited a jolt like lightning to Libbetty’s innards. When he walked towards her, her limbs shook, and she could not move to take possession of the fish. For a long moment she stood dumbstruck. He was equally immobile, staring into her eyes, and then his gaze dropped to her lips, which felt suddenly dry. Would he kiss her again? She wanted that kiss with an intensity that shook her to the core.

  “It seems you needed help after all.” He still stood very near, his voice rough, unsteady, and his chest heaved as though he had been running.

  No words occurred to her in reply. She stared at him as he shook water from his hair. She wanted to smooth the dark locks back from his brow. What would his hair feel like?

  She had no time to ponder, for just then Freddy rounded the corner saying, “Hey, Lib, what’s to do here? Oh good, you’ve caught a big one. That makes six—George and I each caught a fish, Alonso caught two small ones, and even Cat got one—talk about beginner’s luck. We’re bringing them home for Mrs. Berkfield to cook for dinner. Alonso’s coming to eat with us…” He finally slowed to a halt, staring intently as Lord Neil dropped the fish into Libbetty’s basket.

  The others had followed him, and Libbetty became self-consciously aware of her bedraggled state. “Er, yes,” she said. “I believe Lord Neil was just leaving.”

  “Yes, I planned to call on neighbors,” Lord Neil agreed. “I must be on my way.” He glanced down at his own damp clothing. “I, uh, believe I’ll go home and change.” He mounted his horse with every appearance of sangfroid and rode away.

  “What was Lord Neil doing?” Alonso took the prerogative of a long-time friend to ask the question Libbetty could see in the eyes of her brothers and sister.

  “My pole broke. He came along just in time to help me catch the fish.” She lowered her eyelids against the look she saw in Alonso’s face, of reproach? of warning? Alonso’s quick intelligence sometimes saw or surmised too much.

  Her own siblings were insensitive to the atmosphere. “I say,” George said, “wasn’t that famous. Whoever’d imagine an out-and-outer like Lord Neil would go flinging himself into the stream like a Trojan. Why d’you suppose he did it?”

  *

  Neil rode away, restraining an immoderate urge to laugh aloud. His damp breeches slid across the saddle with sucking noises, and Camisard flicked his ears skittishly and bunched his muscles, prepared to erupt at the fishy-smelling, foreign weight dripping water down his flanks. Neil gathered him and sobered.

  Why had he done such a crazy, infantile thing? He had vowed to stay away from Elizabeth, to take cover inside The Castle where he would not encounter her, but restlessness drove him out again. Each time he emerged from his refuge he was drawn to her as to his lodestar. Recently, he frequently saw her on outings with her brothers and the Hayes boy and envied them their carefree youth. And now he had acted no older than those schoolboys.

  His own youth had been stolen when his brother ran away with Maude Rose, and he seldom regretted its loss. But it seemed today, in one mad moment, he’d tried to recapture it. He should burn with embarrassment, but the memory of that shared moment of intense awareness between Elizabeth Bishop and him compensated for the wet clothing and the loss of dignity. Something had shifted within him, changing him forever.

  Unfortunately, nothing had changed in the situation. Any alliance between them was still completely unsuitable. He envisioned her, sparkling as afternoon light glinted off her sunny hair, her soaking clothes revealing her graceful curves.

  It would be criminal to waste all that freshness and bright courage on a jaded cynic like himself. He must relinquish his thoughts of her and depart Peasebotham as soon as he could resolve the problem of Trevor. Once she no longer saw him, she would soon forget him and find someone with whom she had a greater chance of happiness. Perhaps after he had returned to London, he could begin to forget a courageous, tenderhearted miss with revealing blue eyes and hair like dawn sunlight.

  *

  Throughout the dinner at the vicarage, Libbetty took little note of the high spirits of the others. Freddy and George had been promoted to eat with the adults since their return from school. Cat was included for the occasion in honor of the fish she had caught.

  She glowed when Alonso praised her ability to overcome a girl’s natural reluctance to handling slimy, squirmy creatures such as worms and fish. Her brothers chimed in their agreement, affording Libbetty some amusement, remembering her own first excursion. Mr. Bishop having obtained the living at Peasebotham, the Bishops had recently moved to the village. She was ten or perhaps had just turned eleven, and she insisted on tagging after Tom and Alonso. Qualms about baiting her hook had not even occurred to her. She was already an experienced fisherman when Freddy and George were allowed to accompany their older siblings.

  Her mind returned to her disturbing problem, worrying it through the rest of dinner and the long sleepless night. What was she to do in the wake of her stunning discovery that day? No longer could she hide under the vague labels she had given to her feelings for Lord Neil, words such as fascination or tendre. It felt like forever, or at least for the rest of her life.

  If only he had not come so splendidly to her rescue. Then she might have gone on fooling herself with lesser words than love. No, such thoughts were cowardly, and impossible besides. Eventually she would have realized the truth.

  What could she do? Only a hopelessly romantic person would see any chance Lord Neil returned her love. She was a realist, and she knew too certainly the vast gulf between them. She was little more than one of his tenants, and her father’s position at Peasebotham was dependent on Lord Neil’s family. She was a country nobody, and he was mature, experienced with cosmopolitan beauties such as Mrs. Dalrymple.

  Why had he done it? She wished she could believe he was motivated by interest in her. But nothing in his manner over the past months indicated he cared more than the ordinary for her.

  She had challenged him; she almost groaned recalling those impetuous words, you could have helped. She had practically forced him to become involved in that ridiculous chase for the fish. Oh, how she wished she had let it swim away. Just as Lord Neil would shortly follow his friends back to London, to be swallowed up again in his real life, surrounded by glamorous women and exciting events. He would never think of her again.

  She would stay in Peasebotham the rest of her life, trying to forget him. She would involve herself in good works and … what about Wat? She owed him an explanation for
breaking off the betrothal. He deserved a woman who could care for him as she did not. She would arrange a meeting at church this coming Sunday.

  *

  Libbetty sidled Concobhar to a fallen oak and dismounted. Securing his reins to a sturdy branch, she turned to the abandoned hut where she met had Wat several months before. Summer heat and sunshine had deposed the damp and gloom of that day, but the brightness did little to improve the hut’s appearance. Indeed its dilapidation and squalor seemed heightened.

  She had arrived early for her rendezvous with Wat. Sunlight filtered through the branches overhead. A breeze stirred the air, bearing scents of leaves, dust, and a floral fragrance. The occasional rustle of a small animal disturbed the dry undergrowth. A bee buzzed past on its way between flowers and hive. The forest was peaceful yet alive. She turned to the hut.

  She did not intend to meet Wat inside, but the place figured as spooky and rather frightening in her memory. Steeling herself, Libbetty marched to the deserted building.

  The sagging door resisted her efforts to open it. Finally it yielded enough for her to slip through. She paused, a shiver going through her, remembering the trapped feeling the dim room had instilled before.

  Pulling in a lungful of air, she entered, leaving the door ajar. The air smelled musty, but the hut’s interior calmed her fears. A slanting shaft of sunbeam came through the window, illuminating the room with golden light, dust motes twirling so thickly in the ray that it appeared a solid object. She had the illusion she could climb onto it, ascending straight out the window and over the trees into the heavens.

  Smiling at her fancy, she sat on the burlap sacking, still spread over the dirt floor, just as she and Wat had left it. Clearly no one had trespassed since. She would leave before Wat came, meet him in the clearing. Her thoughts scattered in patterns as random as the dust imprisoned in the lone ray, then narrowed and focused on Lord Neil. She thrust the thought away.

  Wat thrust his head through the gap in the door, calling, “Libbetty? You are here!”

  She jumped up as he opened the door further to accommodate his wide shoulders, and as he entered, Libbetty said, “Don’t close it. We need to go back outside.”

  He needed but one step to stand close to her. “You should’ve waited on me to shake out those sacks. Your skirt’s all dusty.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She started to go past him and leave, but he caught her hand.

  “Wait, Libbetty.” She paused, waiting, and for an awkward moment neither spoke. After a brief glance upward at Wat, Libbetty lowered her gaze.

  “Please, Libbetty, can’t we try again? I still love you. There isn’t someone else, is there?”

  “There isn’t anyone—at least no one who wants to marry me. But I don’t care for you the way you deserve. Please say you understand.” She reached up to touch his strong jaw.

  He folded her into his arms, holding her tenderly, his eyes closed as if he wanted to memorize this moment. Then he pressed his lips on hers gently, tentatively. One kiss, she thought, for goodbye. The kiss lengthened and heated. Wat’s hands combed through her hair, loosening the pins. She tried to pull back.

  He muttered, “Ah, Libbetty,” and took her lips again, more forcefully, his hands stroking her skin at the high neck of her habit, then working at the top buttons.

  “Stop, Wat.” She wasn’t frightened. She could convince him to end this, wanted him to understand her lack of passion.

  His breath rasped harshly in the stillness. Warm air cooled on her half-bared breast, apprising her how far the situation had progressed. Suddenly Lord Neil’s face materialized in her mind.

  She jumped away, fleeing out the door, hearing Wat croak out after her, “Libbetty, wait.”

  She ran into the clearing, almost colliding with a huge black beast. It shied and reared with a scream that she slowly identified as a whinny. Again Lord Neil’s face appeared before her, and it took her a moment to realize this time it was real.

  Wat followed hard on her heels, skidding to a halt when he saw Lord Neil. “Er, it isn’t the way it looks, sir,” he rushed to say. “We’re betrothed.”

  “No, we are not.” Libbetty forced her gaze from Lord Neil, turned to Wat. “I told you I can’t marry you.” Wat’s expression, incredulity and hurt mingled, tore at Libbetty.

  “You can’t do this. We’re pledged.” He glared upward at Lord Neil and back at her, and his gaze hardened to something almost ugly. His face suffused with red. “He won’t marry you. When he’s done with you, you’ll come back to me again.”

  “I won’t.” Oh, dear Lord, she wanted to die. Wat’s words, as she belatedly realized their import, completed her disgrace.

  She wanted to strike back, but knowledge of how she had hurt and betrayed Wat kept her silent. Sullenly, he mounted and rode away. She watched, her back to Lord Neil, hearing the last echo of hoofbeats die away and the forest return to the quiet of only a few minutes before. The forest gave her no peace now, however.

  Sunlight crawling lower in the sky found a gap in the leafy canopy and pierced her, and she thought again of dancing on the shaft, away to the sky like a column of smoke and disappearing. Or a pillar of salt—she wondered if Lot’s wife had melted when the rains came. She wished she could become that pillar.

  “You had better repair the damages to your, er, toilette.” Lord Neil’s toneless voice behind her sounded unlike himself. She didn’t respond, couldn’t move. If she could not be that pillar, she would imitate it, become a lifeless statue.

  “Elizabeth, are you all right?” He dismounted and came to her. She fixed her gaze on the sunbeam. Fewer motes quivered in its light than the beam in the hut, and her notion of climbing into it, merging with it, shattered. She looked into Neil’s face. For the first time those gray eyes contained no laughter, and his lips twisted. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  She shook her head. He touched her shoulders, and she wondered if he would kiss her. Would he respond to Wat’s implied invitation? Instead he closed the buttons of her jacket. Closing her eyes, she thought, if he carried her into the hut and made love to her, she could not resist. She willed him to do so, to make of her the wanton he must believe her to be.

  He did not speak as he gathered her hair, combed his fingers through and found a few pins still clinging to her locks. Handing them to her, he said, “You’ll have to do this part. I don’t know how you had arranged it.”

  She moved finally, opened her hand for the pins and reached up to twist her hair into a quick knot. Shoving in the pins haphazardly, she said, “It doesn’t matter.” Her words or her motion broke the spell, shook something loose that had frozen, and she gave vent to her need to strike out. “Why have you been following me around? Everywhere I go, there you are.”

  “I haven’t been following you.” Her words had brought back the twinkle of amusement to Lord Neil’s eyes.

  The indulgent humor that always made her feel too young and awkward capped her ignominy. “No? I take leave to doubt that.”

  She pulled her shredded dignity around her, feeling it unfurl and float on a rush of fury. “You enjoy catching me out in circumstances where I look a fool.” Her rage, fueled by shame and powerlessness, ran freely now, unrestrained by any civility or caution. “I got in your way, didn’t I? I imagine you would like more than to catch me in some new folly—you would like to insure that I can never foil your plans again.”

  The smile disappeared from his face, replaced by comprehension of her accusation, then a strange blankness.

  A part deep inside Libbetty watched, like a spectator at someone else’s drama, as words spilled from her mouth, words unconnected with any conscious thought of hers. “You must find me a terrible nuisance and burden.”

  With a hiccup her words finally ran out—too late to save her. She ran, tears blurring her eyes, toward Concobhar. Lord Neil somehow managed to reach the horse before she did. He boosted her into the sidesaddle and handed her the reins.

  She could n
ot glance at him, could not have read his expression through her tears in any case, but his touch, impersonal and brusque, told its own tale. Riding blindly, she let Concobhar have his head and lead them home.

  By the time she reached home, Libbetty had gained control over her tempestuous emotions. She could not allow her family to see her in this state; they would ask questions she could not answer. However, her outward calmness masked the utter ruins of her life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Neil shook as he rode away, but his first blind anger at Elizabeth faded almost immediately. He well understood the distress that prompted her striking out at him. In his younger days, he had often responded in the same manner to emotional pain.

  What most rattled him was how desperately he wanted her, in all her dishevelment and shock. Handling her in the dispassionate manner he sensed she needed nearly tore him apart. He vanquished the desire to take her right there and damn the consequences. She would have offered no hindrance despite her mistrust of his motives, he knew. But she would have hated herself and him.

  And he—another part of his attraction to her was her willingness to consider he might not desire his nephew’s death. He wanted more, her complete trust in him. What a fool.

  Not such a fool as she, though. What had prompted her to put herself in a position where that country bumpkin could nearly ravish her? He should have reprimanded her for her folly. Perhaps she would think twice before doing such a thing again.

  That country bumpkin wanted to marry her—indeed thought they had an understanding. What intimacies had occurred between them before? He might denigrate the Perkins boy as a rustic, but he was an Adonis who could turn almost any young girl’s head.

  He clenched his teeth, pushing away the unwanted image of the two of them together. He had no rights to Elizabeth Bishop. Once he left Peasebotham, her affections would no doubt return to her farmer. They were unevenly matched, but not so disastrously for her as Neil. The sooner he retired from the lists, the better for all concerned.