“Is someone suggesting that she did?”
Jane stared at her hands for a long moment. Her brows were drawn down and her eyes were clouded with worry. When she raised her gaze to his, she sighed. “I think I will have to trust you, Lord Rossmere. This is too momentous a matter to let it go as it is headed. If there’s even the smallest chance that you can help verify what really happened..."
There was very little chance that he could, but he made no attempt to halt her confidences. She was truly distressed, and her anxiety infected him with an urgency he couldn’t precisely identify. It was all the more alarming because she spoke, even now, in a calm, unemotional voice calculated to strip her speech of any taint of partiality. She was laying before him the facts, as her sister had given them to her. Rossmere withheld any comment until she had disclosed the entirety of the previous evening’s events.
“What did your father have to say about all this?” he asked.
Her expression was pained. “He listened very carefully and then with great sadness told us about John’s concerns for Nancy’s... extravagant imaginings since the baby was born.”
“I see. So he didn’t believe her?”
“No. It’s not just that he’s taking John’s word; Papa feels that Nancy has been different since the baby was born.” Jane pushed a strand of hair back with her long, elegant fingers. “Nancy is the baby, and a favorite of all of us. She’s rather naive because of that, perhaps. We managed to keep her away from the harsher elements of life, I suppose. She cries over the plight of chimney sweeps and children in workhouses. She’s a very good person."
“And marriage is a bit more real than she expected,” Rossmere suggested.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“I take it Lady Mabel is standing behind Parnham, too, even if it means believing that her niece is imagining things.”
“A temporary aberration, she thinks it,” Jane admitted with a certain bitterness. “Aunt has a deep and abiding belief that men are much more inclined to honesty and rationality than women. Already she’s remembering instances of Nancy’s instability as a child. And instances of any number of women she’s heard of who have had similar problems after the birth of a child.” Jane grimaced. “They’re so easily persuaded of her vulnerability. I know her better than that.” Suddenly Jane shuddered. “Do you understand what could happen if she returns with him?”
“Yes. But he doesn’t strike me as a stupid man. It would be rather suspicious if anything happened to her so soon after this episode. She should be safe for a while.”
“But only for a while,” Jane cried. “He could blame anything that happened on her shattered nerves. And to have to live with such a devil. I can’t bear to think of it.”
“Could she live here?”
“I don’t think my father would countenance it for very long, feeling as he does. He can be an obstinate man, and the more I press him on this issue, the more firmly he insists that these are delusions of Nancy’s.” Jane turned her back to Rossmere. “He’s gotten it into his head that observing Richard has somehow made Nancy less steady."
“That doesn’t seem very likely. On the other hand, you may be too attached to your sister to see the truth of the matter.”
Jane swung around to face him. “You don’t believe her, do you?”
“I didn’t say that. My mind is open to any number of possibilities. However, the kind of instance Parnham has described is a little more than depressed spirits after childbirth, isn’t it? Your sister would have to be very disturbed indeed not to remember all the things he says she doesn’t remember. But your sister might not be telling the truth either if she’s embarrassed by her own occasional odd behavior. You might consider that.”
“There’s no need for me to consider that, Lord Rossmere. Nancy is telling me the truth. I don’t doubt it for a moment.”
Rossmere nodded. “I think we have to act on that premise, in any case. If Nancy can’t convince your father to let her stay here for the time being, why not have her get ‘sick’ and need to rest here until she’s better.”
“I suppose that’s what we’ll have to do.” Jane clasped her hands tightly behind her as she strode around the room. “What’s to be done, though, for the long range? She can’t go back to him, she can’t stay here.”
Rossmere stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll have to see how things develop, Jane. You mustn’t let this overset you.”
She shook his hand off and stood glaring at him. “We’re talking about my sister’s life, Rossmere. Not her happiness or some little whim. That man is trying to kill her, and you tell me not to worry about it.”
“He may not be trying to kill her. He may be trying to frighten her, or to drive her crazy.”
“Oh, that’s much better.” Her sarcasm bit through the charged atmosphere between them. “Perhaps you haven’t taken a long look at the third-floor stairs. Someone falling from the top, pitched forward by tripping over a shawl made into a rope, would almost certainly break her neck. The stairs are extremely steep and there’s no railing to grab on to.”
Flushed with anger, tense with fear, she still impressed him as a remarkably capable woman. So where did this desire to comfort her, to clasp her against him and protect her, come from? Rossmere supposed it was because she’d had enough trying things happen to her in her life without this added burden. Her flashing hazel eyes, so surprisingly attractive, caught him up in the turmoil of her emotions.
But really, he saw no simple solution to the problem. If Parnham wanted to kill his wife, eventually he would probably succeed. The only real escape Nancy might have was to be bundled off to an asylum, and from everything he’d heard, that fate was worse than death. If Lord Barlow wouldn’t protect her, the best possibility he could see was to find out Parnham’s motivation.
“I’ll need to see the marriage settlement,” he said abruptly.
Jane, who had been following an entirely different track, stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“If we’re going to find out why Parnham is doing this, the first thing I need to know is what’s in their marriage settlement. You thought he needed the money she brought, and I’d like to know what the arrangement is in the event of her death.”
“The dowry was his outright. Her own property, which is considerably more than the dowry, would go to her children.”
“William is safe enough, then,” Rossmere declared. “I suppose Parnham would administer any inheritance of his child’s, so the money would basically be at his disposal.”
“Yes, but I’m sure Nancy would give him any sums he needed now.”
Rossmere regarded her with his former coolness. “Perhaps that arrangement doesn’t suit him.”
“Doesn’t suit him,” she scoffed. “So he has decided to kill her! Does that seem reasonable to you, Rossmere? Do you think you would be tempted to do away with me in a similar situation?”
“Don’t be absurd,” he snapped. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Her eyes flashed, unrepentant. “I know no such thing. You’re quite sympathetic to the notion that a man’s pride cannot tolerate his being under a financial obligation to his wife, aren’t you? The only difference is that you refuse to undertake the obligation and Parnham has undertaken to rid himself of the source of his annoyance.”
“Just a small difference! You must be very distressed indeed to make such a comparison. I can only conclude that your wits have gone begging.”
His words lashed out so harshly that she shrank back from him, looking as though she’d been slapped. Her eyes blinked rapidly, and she shuddered, saying, “You’re quite right, of course. I don’t know what’s come over me. That same impotence and frustration that... Never mind. It was wrong of me to say such things and I most sincerely ask your pardon.”
He stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “You have it. And now, if you will excuse me?”
He knew her stri
cken eyes followed him as he stalked from the library, but he couldn’t bring himself to offer her comfort. Deep inside he understood that this awful situation had thrown her back into the days of Richard’s worst torment, and Rossmere should be sympathetic to her anguish.
How could she even for a moment compare him with Parnham, whom she thought of as evil incarnate? Had she no regard for him at all? Rossmere had thought perhaps Lady Jane was softening toward him, that she had come to view him as a man of some significance in her life. At least as a friend. It was a blow to learn that she despised him.
Jane watched him go, sick at heart. If she had tried, she couldn’t have been more insulting to him. His proud stand about marrying for money was a small matter compared with Parnham’s wickedness, and yet she had lumped them together as though there were no difference. For some reason she had felt very, very angry with Rossmere.
And why? Because he couldn’t completely believe in her sister? Why should he? He hardly knew Nancy, and there was little reason to take Jane’s word, since she was obviously biased.
Or was it anger at the viscount for his personal lack of involvement? It couldn’t make much difference one way or the other to him if Nancy’s life was in danger. In a few weeks he would return to Longborough Park and forget all about their distant problems.
Richard would have believed her. Richard would have found some solution to the dangerous mystery. If he were well, if he weren’t locked up for his own safety .
He wouldn’t have stood there staring at her, questioning her every word. What’s more, he would have held her, pressed her against his chest, and run his hands soothingly across her back. He would have kissed her eyelids and her forehead and whispered encouraging words in her ear.
Not that she wanted that sort of behavior from Rossmere!
She had forgotten how much more secure one felt when there was a man who loved you, who cared for your concerns and stood by you in your fear. It was unbearable that she should be caught up in this awful situation and Richard wasn’t there to stand firm beside her. If she had wanted to call on Rossmere, to have him comfort her, it was simply because he was the only one around who might conceivably be of help. His broad shoulders had seemed more than sufficient to provide some help.
Perhaps he would have, too, if she hadn’t offended him. He had gone straight to the heart of the issue when he considered whether little William, too, might be in danger. Jane would have liked having his intelligence and his steadiness on her side.
With a sigh she stepped away from the window. No use thinking about that now. She would go to Nancy and offer what help she could. Certainly her sister must stay at Willow End until something could be done to solve her desperate problem.
* * * *
Nancy agreed to everything her sister suggested about crying sick and staying at Willow End. And yet, just an hour later Jane found her in the entry hall, wearing her dove-gray carriage dress and carrying a satchel with some of the baby’s toys and bread crusts. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she managed a thin-lipped smile for her sister’s encouragement. John Parnham was at her elbow.
“We’re off,” he said. “I’ve said my farewells to your father. Never fear that I’ll see Nancy gets her rest. It’s all a bit trying for her. She should never have insisted on nursing the child herself. There’s a wet nurse right in the hamlet beside the hall. We’ll contact her the moment we return.”
“No,” Nancy said firmly. “The doctor said it would do me no harm to nurse William, and it hasn’t.”
“Whatever you wish,” her husband said in a placating tone that infuriated Jane. “But we really should be leaving.”
Nancy offered her cheek for Jane’s kiss. With Parnham so close, Jane didn’t dare ask her what was happening. It broke her heart to watch the couple walk down the front stair, the nursemaid close behind with William. A terrible dread froze Jane where she stood. Letting Nancy leave this house seemed almost a sentence of death.
Jane moved to the terrace and watched them climb into Parnham’s new carriage. As though to highlight the strangeness of their visit, the older carriage waited directly behind it, empty and forlorn. Jane wished she could hide in it and follow them, spirit herself to Parnham Hall to keep a watchful eye on her dear sister.
The coachman set his team in motion, and Jane bit her lip to prevent herself from crying, or crying out. She waved until both carriages were out of sight. Only then did she notice that Rossmere was standing in the drive, his riding clothes dusty from the summer paths, his whip tapping quickly against his boot, a deep frown etching his forehead. Jane felt suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, but she maintained her calm demeanor, with difficulty, and disappeared into the house.
* * * *
Rossmere went directly to Lord Barlow’s study, where he could see the older man through the open door. The earl was staring vacantly out the window, his lips pursed and his hand absently rubbing a small statue that rested in front of him on his desk.
Though he stood there for several minutes, waiting to catch the earl’s attention, such a subtle approach proved unsuccessful. Eventually he had to tap quite firmly on the heavy panel of the door to rouse Lord Barlow from his reverie. Even then, the older man stared at him for a long moment, as though he couldn’t remember who Rossmere was, before saying, “Ah, yes, Lord Rossmere. Do come in.”
Taking the seat indicated, Rossmere rested both hands atop his riding crop and regarded the earl with puzzled intensity. “Did you refuse to let Lady Nancy stay here?” he asked at length.
Barlow frowned at him. “There was no question of her staying here. She wished to leave with her husband and child.”
“I find that difficult to comprehend. Whether or not you believe her, she thinks that her husband tried to kill her last night. It’s highly unlikely she wished to go home with him.”
“What do you know about last night?” the earl demanded.
“I was awakened by some loud noises and went to explore. Unfortunately, the halls were dark and I was too late to encounter Lady Nancy or her husband. Lady Jane told me Nancy’s story this morning.”
“She shouldn’t have.”
“Of course she should have. I might have been able to provide some corroboration.” Rossmere tapped the crop impatiently. “I’m not at all sure who’s telling the truth in this matter, but I can assure you of one thing: if I had a daughter who believed, for whatever reason, that her life was in danger, I certainly wouldn’t send her home with her husband without a proper investigation of the circumstances."
“There’s nothing to investigate. Nancy has always been a fanciful child, pampered by everyone at Willow End. The strain of motherhood has taken its toll on her.”
“Lord Barlow, I don’t understand your attitude. Even if you believe every word Parnham has uttered, you must surely see that your daughter is in need of help.”
“And her husband will provide it. He’s responsible for her now. I have no jurisdiction whatsoever over her since her marriage.”
“You have a paternal obligation to her, and it would be socially acceptable for her to remain here for a while. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let her.”
“You certainly don’t understand,” Lord Barlow said coldly. “Nancy didn’t ask to stay here. They came to me when their bags had already been packed and announced that they were leaving. I can only assume that it is what she wanted.”
Rossmere rose and glared down at him. “It hardly seems likely, does it? Live human beings are so much more bother than statues, aren’t they? Well, I hope you won’t mind if I spend a little time trying to find out what’s going on. For some inexplicable reason, I feel concerned for Lady Nancy.”
“We all feel concerned for her, Rossmere. This household has lived with a great deal more mental instability than most. If we’re lucky, my daughter’s odd behavior will prove temporary. If not..." He waved a tired hand. “We took care of Richard until his death. We would do no less for Nancy, if necessary.”
Rossmere and Jane, of course. But Jane was shackled by every social restriction inflicted on maiden women: she couldn’t ride about the countryside asking questions, visit the local dens of (light) iniquity, or confront her brother-in-law with any hope of success. If anything was to be done, Rossmere would have to do it.
He bowed stiffly to Lord Barlow and left the room.
Chapter 11
It took Rossmere two days to uncover anything of interest. He had discovered a drinking establishment on the Ridgely Road where the occupants were delighted to talk with practiced ease under the influence of drinks bought for them by his lordship, who was a “regular right one," according to these same fellows. They seemed to know everything that was going on in the district, but had submitted nothing more exciting than Parnham’s new carriage for his troubles.
On the second night, however, well into the evening, a strapping young man entered the room whom he hadn’t seen before. The youth was of a stolid and uncommunicative nature, and it took Rossmere several heavy wets to induce this Jem to remark on whether he’d seen anything out of the ordinary during the last few weeks.
“Can’t say as I have,” the young man drawled. “ ‘Cept the horse, mebbe.”
"What horse would that be?” Rossmere asked, gearing himself to great patience.
“Reason I thought of it were ‘cause of your Ascot, you know. Fine horse, Ascot.”
“Yes. He used to be Richard Bower’s.”
“Know that.” The fellow nodded several times thoughtfully. “Saw the race at the fair. Beat out both his filly and his colt. Wouldn’t mind havin’ a horse like that myself.”
The Proud Viscount Page 10