by Jo Beverley
“Is it as obvious as that?” Laura closed the lid of the empty trunk, realizing that her words admitted there was something. “I can’t tell you at the moment. Perhaps later.”
“Is it a man?”
“No!”
“It’s a reasonable assumption. The Gardeynes don’t want you to marry, but you’ve fallen in love. Romeo and Juliet . . .”
“I’m Laura, remember? Petrarch’s beloved, adored from afar. No balcony kisses, but no death, either.”
“To avoid death is to avoid life,” Juliet stated, reverting to their lifelong debate about their namesakes. Their sisters, Beatrice and Olivia, both some years older, had claimed smugly to have more normal fates; Beatrice with her Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing and Olivia with her Orsino from Twelfth Night, a duke, no less.
Laura was in no mood to play, especially when the fate of saintly Laura seemed to fit her all too well these days.
“Let’s unpack for Harry,” she said to escape, and led the way to the smaller nursery bedroom where he’d sleep with Megsy. His things were soon put away there and Laura went to find him.
He was in the kitchen with Megsy and his grandmother, happily covered in flour and shaping dough into rolls, adored by the servants preparing dinner. He smiled at her, but he didn’t seem to have missed her at all.
It hurt.
Her mother said, “He’s no trouble, love. Go into the drawing room and have a nice chat with Juliet.”
It was as good as a command, but Laura said, “Let’s stroll around outside, Ju. Sitting in a carriage for two days leaves my legs feeling neglected.”
They rambled the garden and orchard and then into the farm proper.
“There are kittens,” Juliet said as they strolled by the stables. “Harry will like that.”
“He’d like a cat, but Lord Caldfort doesn’t like them.”
“He’s a sour old despot, if you ask me.”
“He’s a sick and bitter old man, but it is his home.”
“It’s yours, too.”
“Not really.” It came out because she was relaxed, and because she was tired of saying the right thing all the time. “Where’s your home?” she asked Juliet as they passed through a gate to walk along the edge of a stubbled field.
“Wherever Robert is.” Then Juliet pulled a face. “Well, not Denmark. Or at sea, which is probably where he still is. But yes, our London house is home. Perhaps it’s because it’s ours, not his father’s.”
“That would make a difference.” Laura picked a rose hip from the hedge and broke it open to look at the seeds. “As it is, I feel . . . transient. The vessel for the next Lord Caldfort, but no more than that. Of course, when Hal was alive we didn’t spend much time at Caldfort House. Or before Harry was born, at least.” She shrugged. “Hal was not rooted anywhere. Home was where his horses were.”
Too late she realized that sounded as if he loved his horses more than her.
“I always thought it a love match,” Juliet said.
“It was, but love . . . changes.”
She saw a protest form on her sister’s lips and be suppressed.
“Not for everyone,” Laura said quickly. “I believe in true love, lasting love. But I think it’s hard to detect at the beginning. Like knowing gold from gilding. It has to be tested. Scratched—”
A bird burst up out of the nearby stubble and shot into the air, singing.
“A skylark!” Juliet said, shielding her eyes to watch it climb.
Laura did the same. “It can’t have a nest at this time of year.”
Memory stirred despite her effort to suppress it. Poor Stephen, but at least they were friends again now. She and Stephen had lain down to watch. They couldn’t do that—
Then Juliet did. Right there on the rough ground. “Come on. Let’s watch it return.” She looked at Laura. “Come on! One advantage of wearing dismal clothes has to be that you don’t care if they’re stained.”
With a laugh, Laura sat. “I’ve never thought of mourning clothes like that before.”
She lay down, shifting away from some stubble that was digging into her back. The sky wasn’t a perfect blue today. It was mostly cloudy, but the clouds were high. The ground was chilly beneath her, but at least it was dry.
When had she last lain back to look up into the infinity of the sky? Perhaps that last time with Stephen. It was a shame. Everyone should do this and be aware of . . . She contemplated it. Of the grandeur of the universe, in which mere mortals moved.
“That bird sees more of the world than we ever will,” she said. “Perhaps that’s why it flies so high.”
“I think it flies and sings because it can. Out of sheer joie de vivre. Here it comes!”
First as a dot, then growing larger, the bird plummeted down, wings tucked, only spreading them at the end to circle around. It was as if the bird knew they were watching him.
Laura sat up, hugging her knees. “Can you imagine doing that? Deliberately falling from the sky, knowing you’ll be safe?”
Juliet sat up, too. “Sounds rather like you-know-what.”
“Ju!”
“Or the appeal of danger. People do take risks just for the thrill.”
“Like hunting,” Laura said softly, and quoted, “He left life leaping,” perhaps understanding it for the first time.
Juliet reached over and took her hand, but Laura’s doubtless grim expression was for another reason. The same passion that sent men into battle and over fences could drive a man to kill.
Chapter 16
The letter arrived the next morning. Laura’s father came into the breakfast parlor with the postbag and sorted through the correspondence.
“One for you, Laury-love,” he said, studying a letter before passing it on. “From Somerset. Didn’t know you knew anyone in Somerset.”
Laura managed her part, even though she felt as if liar must be written all over her. “It must be from my friend, Eleanor Delaney. I wrote to her hoping we could meet while I was here. We haven’t seen each other since we became mothers.”
Was she explaining too much too soon?
She read through the letter, expecting to have to lie about the contents, too, but it was a clever imitation of a letter between old friends, including bits about supposed shared acquaintances and their two children.
It made it easier to produce her next lines in the play. Better to think of it as a play rather than as lying to her parents.
“Oh, dear. Eleanor says they’re to travel north soon.” After a moment of supposed thought, she suggested, “If I’m to see her, I must go soon. Will you mind, Papa, Mama? Harry and I are here for a month.”
Her father’s bushy gray brows rose, but he said, “No, no, love. If now’s the only time to visit your friend, now it must be. You’re thinking to go for a few days, then?”
“If you don’t mind. I can’t make it there and back in a day and have time for a proper visit.”
“Of course we don’t mind, dear,” said her mother, passing around a platter of eggs and urging more on everyone. “It’s such a treat to have you here for so long that we can afford to share. I don’t think I’ve heard you mention this lady, though, have I?”
Squirming inside, Laura gave the story she’d prepared of a London friend who was now mostly a friend by correspondence.
“How nice to meet again, then,” her mother said. “I’m sure it must have been dull for you at Caldfort after dear Hal died, so letters will have been a solace. But a real meeting is so much better. And Mrs. Delaney has a child, too, you said?”
“Yes. Arabel. But she’s over a year younger than Harry.”
“Still, someone for him to play with.”
“I’ll arrange a chaise for you?” her father asked.
“Yes, thank you, Papa.”
Talk moved on to the best road to take, and Laura thought it all done. She hoped she was imagining a speculative look on Juliet’s face.
After breakfast she packed again, but onl
y a valise, since they would be away for a short time. When the post chaise arrived from the George in Barham, she went to find Harry. He was in the stables with his uncle and Megsy.
She took his hand. “Come along, Minnow. We’re going for another little journey.”
He stared at her, then ripped his hand free. “No. I’m not going!”
“Harry! Don’t be foolish. Of course you’re coming. You can’t stay here.”
“Well, he can,” said her brother. “He’s no trouble.”
Laura glared at the traitor, took a breath, and knelt to explain. “It won’t be a long journey, Minnow, and the Delaneys have a little girl to play with.”
Harry’s face set in mutiny and he shook his head.
“There’ll be plenty of animals along the way.”
He just scowled.
She couldn’t believe it. He’d never behaved like this before.
Laura glared at her brother again, but as usual he was dense as a rock. “Leave him here, Laury. The traveling’ll be easier alone and you can enjoy a holiday.”
Holiday! She didn’t need a holiday from Harry. Of course, Ned didn’t know that Harry’s life was in danger. She stood and grabbed Harry’s arm. “Harry, you are coming. We’ll be back in a few days.”
He didn’t protest, but he became a dead weight and she saw tears trickling out of his screwed-up eyes.
She let him go. “Harry, what’s the matter with you?”
If Harry wouldn’t come, she couldn’t go, yet she had to. She had to find out the truth in Draycombe and make sure everything was done properly, but she couldn’t explain to him or to anyone else.
Laura glared at her brother. “Ned,” she mouthed. “Do something.”
He shrugged. “He probably thinks you’re dragging him off home. Every other time he’s been here, he’s climbed into a coach to go back to that house. Leave him. We’re happy to have him here.”
Laura went back on her knees, finding a bright smile. “Sweetling, we’re not going back to Caldfort! We’re going on to another house.”
But Harry had reached a state of mutiny that was impervious to reason. “I’m staying here. You stay here, too.”
Laura recognized a crucial moment. Apart from her need to go, she couldn’t let Harry dictate her movements to suit himself.
She got to her feet. “Very well. If you really don’t want to come, you can stay here.”
He grabbed her skirt. “No, you stay!” He even stamped his foot.
Controlling an urge to return temper for temper, she said, “That can’t be, Harry, but you can stay here.”
He glared at her in a way that could break her heart, but she didn’t waver. In the end he let go of her skirt. “Stay here. Stay with Megsy and Uncle Ned and Aunt Margaret and Grandma and Grandpa.”
Laura fought not to show her shocked betrayal. She’d never believed that in the end he would choose others over her. When she could speak through her tight throat, she said, “Very well, love. I won’t be gone many days, and I’ll write you a letter every day.”
Perhaps he, too, had thought he’d win, for his lips trembled. “With drawings?”
Laura blinked away tears as she hugged him. “With drawings. You’ll be good, yes?”
He nodded.
Laura realized that she was still waiting for him to change his mind, to declare, now he saw that she wouldn’t falter, that he’d come with her. But he didn’t. Instead he wriggled free, said, “Bye-bye, Mama,” and ran back into the stables.
After a moment her brother said, “There’s kittens.”
Laura couldn’t find anything to say to the traitor, so she turned and stalked back into the house, wavering, wondering if she shouldn’t go after all. Stephen would go in her place. He could report back.
But a letter would be two days to and from, and matters could turn urgent.
Her parents and Juliet were waiting by the door to wave her off, and she had to explain the change of plan.
“That’s no problem,” her father said heartily. “In fact, it’s a treat for us.” He and Ned were very alike.
Her mother understood. “They all go in the end, love. Particularly the boys.”
“But he’s so young.”
“And he’ll miss you dearly. But they become dictators if we let them, and it never serves. You go and have your little visit. It’ll do you both good.”
Laura hugged her mother, who meant well and was probably right, but—Lord!—it crashed in on her that she would be leaving Harry unprotected. She believed he would be safe here, but even so, she had to warn someone.
Her parents? Ned? But she knew them too well to think that would work.
Juliet.
“Oh,” she said, “I have all Harry’s things packed. I must undo that.”
She commanded the valise unloaded and carried back into the house, then dug through it to extract Harry’s clothing. When Juliet came to help, Laura looked for condemnation but saw none.
Even so, she said, “I have to go.”
“So I gather. Don’t worry about Harry. He’ll be fine.”
Perhaps I don’t want him to be, Laura thought, then was ashamed of herself, but his content with the separation was a knife in her heart. He wasn’t even here to see her off.
She grabbed the pile of Harry’s clothes. “I’ll take these back upstairs.”
“No need. I’ll do it.”
Laura shook her head and Juliet caught the hint. She took half of the small pile, and they went upstairs together. Once in the room, Laura dropped the clothing on the bed and explained the essentials as succinctly as she could. She wanted to tell Juliet only about Jack, but she had to say something about Draycombe to explain leaving at all.
Juliet frowned as she followed it. “You truly think Reverend Gardeyne might come here to try to kill Harry?”
Laura put a hand to her mouth. “No. If I did, I’d never go. If Jack’s doing anything other than writing his sermon, he’ll be heading for Draycombe. That’s why I have to get there first, but I couldn’t bear to leave Harry here with no one alert for problems. I don’t expect any, but I need you to promise that if Jack Gardeyne comes here, you won’t let him be alone with Harry for a moment, no matter what pretext he comes up with.”
Still looking skeptical, Juliet nodded. “I promise.”
“And don’t let him take Harry anywhere. Not even to church.”
“Very well. But in that case, you know, I might have to tell Papa or Ned.” After a moment, she asked, “Don’t you think you should tell them now?”
From downstairs, Laura’s father called, “Laura? Are you all right, love? Don’t keep the horses standing.”
She opened the door. “Coming, Papa! No,” she whispered to Juliet. “They’d think I was mad, and you know what they’d be like! They’d want to go to the magistrates. I don’t have time for that, and in the end I have no proof. Oh, if only Harry would come with me!”
“Into danger?” Juliet asked.
That caught Laura. “Heavens, you’re right. I’d rather leave him here than with strangers at Redoaks.”
“But what about you? Are you going into danger? Who is this Mrs. Delaney? Laura . . .”
At any moment, Juliet was going to decide that she had to tell their parents herself.
Laura had left out one detail.
“Stephen is helping me. Stephen Ball. The Delaneys are friends of his. He’s meeting me there, and we’re going to investigate this together.”
Juliet’s eyes went wide, but now with mischievous delight. “I knew there was a man involved! Go, go, and have a wonderful time!”
Chapter 17
It took three hours to travel to Redoaks, and three hours gives ample time for worry. Laura worried that Harry would already be missing her. She worried that he wasn’t. It still hurt that he seemed able to wave good-bye to her without a care in the world. It hurt, simply, that each turn of the wheel separated them more. They had been so little apart.
Perhaps everyone was right. Perhaps even Jack was right that she clung too closely to her child. She would try to do better, but only when Harry was safe. She prayed that HG was Henry Gardeyne’s legitimate child, and that she and Stephen would be in time to save him.
When the post chaise rolled up to the elegant brick house called Redoaks, she was ready to leap out and go on immediately to Draycombe. She knew that couldn’t be. They would have to plan a little, and she would need some disguise.
Because what she was about to do was scandalous.
That awareness had grown in her. She and Stephen were old friends, once as close as brother and sister, but that wouldn’t count for anything if they were caught together at an inn. It would ruin her.
The disguise had better be excellent.
The door opened and a couple came out, the man carrying a pretty infant in a pink dress. Eleanor Delaney, a handsome woman with auburn hair, came forward. “Laura! How lovely to see you again.”
Laura missed her cue by a heartbeat, then realized that indeed they should act their parts, even before the indifferent postilions. She went into the other woman’s arms. “It’s been so long.” Pulling free, she turned to the man and child. “And this must be Arabel.”
She would have kissed the child, but the girl shrank back, face puckering as if she’d cry.
“She’s shy,” Nicholas Delaney said with an easy smile.
King Rogue. He didn’t look regal or wicked, though there was something unusual about him—apart, that was, from the fact that his shirt was open-necked beneath a loose jacket. Informal, to say the least. Perhaps the uncommon impression came from his coloring, for unlike most fashionable gentlemen his face was tanned by the sun to a shade that almost matched his dusky gold hair.
“A pleasure to see you again, Laura,” he said. “I’ll attend to your luggage and the carriage. You go into the house. You must be ready for refreshment.”
Laura went, but she couldn’t help finding it strange that Delaney kept the little girl with him rather than passing her to his wife.
Eleanor Delaney didn’t seem to mind. “No Harry?” she asked as they went upstairs. “Arabel will be disappointed.”