by Anne Gracie
Mrs. Wilks stood. “I’ll vouch for her too. That’s her ladyship, sure as I’m standing here. God be praised, m’lady.”
And one by one, all the Wainfleet servants rose to their feet and agreed that it was a mystery, but yes, that was Cecily, Countess of Wainfleet. No doubt of it.
Hawk-face gestured in disgust for them to sit down again. He surveyed them sourly. “Then if this is the Countess of Wainfleet, who was the woman you fished from the lake?” He looked at Briggs, the gamekeeper, who looked bewildered and shook his head.
“Why did you think it was the countess?”
“She was small and slender and fair, just like ’er ladyship,” Briggs said. “And ’er ladyship had gone missing.”
“Surely you looked at her face,” Hawk-face snapped.
Briggs gave an apologetic shrug. “After three days in the lake, there ain’t much face left, yer honor.”
One of the maids put her hand up.
“Yes?”
“It was her clothes, yer honor—the countess’s clothes. She was wearing her new dress.” She turned to Cecily. “You remember, my lady, the lovely gold dress with the satin ribbons that the earl bought for you special?”
Cecily shuddered. “I didn’t care for it.” Zach’s father often gave her expensive gifts after a particularly bad night. “I gave the dress to Jeannie, for her wedding—my personal maid, Jeannie Carr. She was going to be married the next day. She loved the dress, and we were the same si—” She faltered and her hands flew up to her mouth as she realized the implications. She finished in a horrified whisper, “We were the same size. I gave her the gold dress to wear at her wedding.”
There was a ripple of conjecture, then a maid said, “We thought Jeannie had jilted Bobby Looker, left him standing at the altar . . . but all the time . . .” She burst into noisy sobs.
“If the body was that of Jeannie Carr,” Hawk-face said, “there is still a murder to be investigated.”
Sykes, Zach’s father’s old coachman, got heavily to his feet. “I reckon I know what happened to her,” he said. “I’ve thought about it off and on for years, but . . .” He scratched his head worriedly. “I weren’t sure enough to stir it all up again.”
“Get on with it, man,” Hawk-face snapped.
“When his lordship learned young Master Adam had run off with the mistress, he were that furious—he were a man of temper, but I never saw him so enraged. He’d been drinkin’ a fair bit,” he said in an apologetic aside to Zach. “He insisted on setting out after you in his curricle, even though it were well dark by then. And he were determined on driving himself—well, you know what he were like, Master Adam.”
Zach nodded. When his father was drunk and in a rage, the devil himself couldn’t reason with him.
The old man’s face crinkled with emotion. “We hit something on the way out, just before the bridge. I thought it were a sheep, honest I did—I heard a little bleat. I went back when we got home the next morning to check—I don’t like to let animals suffer, but I never found nothing, so I never thought much about it. But thinking back . . . I reckon he might have hit young Jeannie, going to meet her Bobby, all dressed in her finest . . .”
There was a hushed silence as people in the audience pictured a joyful young bride, crossing the grounds of the estate in the dark, dressed in her beautiful new gold dress, going to meet her groom, only to be struck by a curricle driven by a drunken maniac . . . and drowned.
They pictured the groom waiting at the altar the next morning, the slow devastation as the minutes passed and it dawned on him that he’d been jilted. And the question of “why” never answered . . . until now. So very tragic.
Hawk-face made a note and said briskly, “In that case, I find there is no case to answer. Cecily Aston-Black is alive and well, and the death of the maidservant, Jeannie Carr, I rule as accidental death, and since the driver has gone to his eternal rest, that is the end of the matter. Lord Wainfleet, you are free to leave.”
There was a moment of utter silence, then cheers burst out. Zach rose to his feet, half in disbelief at his good fortune, half exultant. He was free, free to build a new life. Now he just needed to find the girl he wanted to build it with . . .
And at the back of the room, a beautiful young woman rose to her feet, her smile a dazzling sunburst in a sea of happy smiles. Zach thought his heart would burst.
She was here, after all. Waiting for him. Jane had come.
* * *
Jane stood at the back of the room, jostled by the throngs of people all wanting to personally congratulate Zachary, unable to get to him.
Across the room her eyes met his. His glowed, shining silver-green. She smiled back, close to tears—happy tears. They’d made it in time, after all. She’d found Cecily and brought her to London, and Zachary Black—Lord Wainfleet, as he was, though she would always think of him as Zachary—was free.
A little hand slipped into hers. It was Winnie. “It’ll be all right now, won’t it, Jane? My brother is free? Mam spoke up and set him free?”
Jane hugged her. “Yes, my love, he’s free. Your mam set him free.”
Cecily was still down the front near Zach. She was looking quite terrified by all the attention, but it looked like Max was looking after her. She would have some explaining to do, but not here, not now—this was all for celebration.
Jane watched Zach, surrounded by well-wishers, shaking hands, smiling. Winnie leaned against her trustingly and Jane glanced down. The child’s resemblance to Zach had initially endeared Jane to her, but those long days in the carriage had taught her to love Winnie for herself.
“See that tall, beautiful man over there?” she said to Winnie.
“My brother, you mean?”
“That’s the one. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to marry him.”
Winnie’s thin little face lit up. “Really?”
“Yes, really. But don’t tell a soul yet—it’s a secret.”
“I promise.” Winnie’s eyes were shining. “Will that make you my sister?”
“Yes.” Jane hugged her. “I’ve always wanted a little sister.”
“I’ve always wanted a sister too,” Winnie confided.
“Well, now you’ll have four, because you can share mine: Abby, Damaris and Daisy.” She pointed them out. “And I suspect you might get an aunt as well—see that old lady? That’s Lady Beatrice.”
Winnie looked at Lady Beatrice, leaning heavily on her stick, glaring at the milling throng blocking her exit. She caught Gil Radcliffe by the coat and said something to him. He nodded and cleared a path for her.
“She looks a bit scary,” Winnie whispered as the old lady stumped toward them.
“She does, but she has the kindest heart in the world,” Jane told her. “I promise.”
“Come on, we’re going home,” Lady Beatrice declared. “Can’t tolerate this racket any longer. Freddy’s taking Damaris and Daisy home and Max will bring Abby.”
“But—” Jane began. She wanted to speak to Zachary.
“Told young Radcliffe to bring him along later. They’re both coming to dinner.” She frowned at Jane. “Well, you didn’t imagine you could have any kind of private talk here, with all this rabble looking on, did you? Do it better in the parlor at home. Don’t fret, gel—he has obligations to his tenants, but he’ll come. I doubt wild beasts could keep him away from you now his name’s been cleared.”
Jane looked across at Zach and sent a silent signal, pointing to Lady Beatrice and indicating she had to go. He nodded and mouthed the word soon. She blew him a kiss, and across the room he sent her a blazing look, a silent promise that dried her mouth and sent her heart racing.
Lady Beatrice observed the exchange, gave a snort of laughter, then looked at Winnie, clinging to Jane’s arm. “Well now, who’s this?”
“This is Winnie Willi
ams, Lady Beatrice. She’s Lady Wainfleet’s daughter, and Zachary’s half sister. And,” Jane added, drawing Winnie closer, “I’ve just been telling her she might be getting a new aunt.”
Lady Beatrice’s eyes gleamed. “Ho! A new niece, is it? Excellent. Now, come along, Winnie child, Max—that’s my nephew—is bringing your mother, so no need to worry. After all this excitement, I need a drink, and I expect you could do with a cake and some lemonade, eh?”
Winnie nodded shyly and, still clinging to Jane’s arm, followed the old lady out to the waiting carriage.
* * *
There was no way Zach could get away quickly from his well-wishers, and to be honest, he couldn’t bring himself to brush them off, even though there was nothing he wanted more in life than to go to Jane.
But these good folk had made what was, for most of them, the longest journey of their lives, just to show him support, and he was grateful. More than grateful, he was deeply touched.
So he invited them all—his Wainfleet people and the men he’d been to school with and anyone else—even Cousin Gerald—to join him at the tavern over the way, where he bought drinks for the next two hours.
At the commencement of the first round, once everybody in the taproom had a drink in their hands, he made a speech, thanking them for their support, for their faith in him. To his school friends he promised a dinner at Gil’s club—soon to be his own as well—and to the folk from Wainfleet he promised a proper celebration on the estate—a May Day fete, celebrating his return to England—
“Your return from the dead, me lord!” some wag in the audience called, and they all laughed.
“And the beginning, I hope, of a new, prosperous era for all at Wainfleet,” Zach finished. “To the future.” And they all drank.
Zach glanced at the door. He’d need to stay at least another hour before he could leave. He toasted and joked and laughed and talked, a drink in his hand the whole time, but he hardly drank a thing.
There was only one thing he wanted now: Jane.
Chapter Twenty-seven
I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
—JANE AUSTEN, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
Back at the house on Berkeley Square, Jane was on tenterhooks. She participated in the conversations, and she hoped she made sense, but the whole time she was listening for one thing: the front doorbell, signaling the arrival of Zachary Black.
Finally the bell jangled in the hallway, and without waiting for Featherby to announce Zachary’s arrival, Jane jumped up and rushed out. And skidded to a halt.
“I believe my wife is here, the former Countess of Wainfleet.” A soberly dressed man of medium height stood in the hallway, hat in hand.
“Mr. Williams?” Jane said, coming forward. “I am Jane Chance—delighted to meet you. Yes, Cecily is here, and Winnie too. They are in the drawing room taking tea. If you would care to come this way—”
“Thank you, but no,” he said, his face rather grim. “If you don’t mind, I would rather speak to my wife alone first. If there is somewhere . . .” He glanced around.
“Of course,” Jane said, her heart sinking. This did not look good for Cecily. “Featherby, will you show Mr. Williams into the front parlor, please? I will fetch Cecily.”
She hurried back to the drawing room. “Cecily, your husband is here.”
Cecily started, looking instantly apprehensive. Winnie, on the other hand, exclaimed “Papa!” and flew from the room.
She was still hugging him when Jane and Cecily arrived. He clearly loved the child and she him, which made Jane warm to him a little. Taking Winnie with her, she left a pale and clearly nervous Cecily alone with her husband, presumably to break the news to him of her bigamy.
Cecily looked at Michael, twisting her handkerchief between nervous fingers.
“Well, girl, do you not have a kiss for me?” he said quietly.
His voice was so gentle she wanted to burst into tears, but she was too filled with guilt. She hurried over and kissed him nervously. “How did you find me?”
“I followed you back here after that hearing.”
“You were there?” She stared at him. “But how?”
“I’ve been to Wainfleet, where I heard all about the countess—drowned in the lake, some said; run off with the son, others said. And I heard all about the old earl who died last year, who had a way with his fists when in drink, and not choosy about where those fists landed. He’s not much mourned by anyone.”
She thrust a shaking hand against her mouth. “Oh, my God—you know?”
He nodded.
“About the . . . the bigamy?”
Again, he nodded.
“But how? What made you go to Wainfleet in the first place?”
“That lawyer’s man. There he was, asking about the Countess of Wainfleet, and you and Mary Thomas all in a tizzy about him and convincing the whole village to speak only Welsh to the poor man. And what do we have to do with the Countess of Wainfleet, I wondered, so I had a quiet word with the fellow.”
“Oh, Michael.” Cecily’s eyes filled with tears.
“He told me she’d gone missing twelve years ago, and that the earl needed her in London now. And that her name was Cecily.”
At that, a sob burst from Cecily. “Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry, so sorry.”
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her cheeks. “Hush now, girl, don’t take on. What’s done is done.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Well, see, I remember how you were when you first came to stay with Mary Thomas. Jumpy and nervous, you were, cariad, like a dog that’s been ill-treated and has learned to fear the hand of man.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I knew you were running from something bad—from someone bad. I knew you were in hiding, knew you were full of fear and secrets.” He smiled. “But, God forgive me, I wanted you.”
“Oh, Michael . . . I should never have agreed to marry you, I know. Bigamy—it’s a serious crime. And you’ve always been so upright, so pure—”
He laughed. “Not so upright or pure that I didn’t want you the instant I set eyes on you. And still do.” And he drew her into his arms and kissed her.
“What are you going to do?” Cecily said after a while.
He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I suppose you’d better make an honest man out of me.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“I think a quiet London wedding will do the trick. Then we go back to Llandudno and go on with our lives.”
“You mean you’re not going to tell?”
“What good would that do? You’re my wife; I made promises in the presence of God, promises I still consider sacred—bigamy or not. God knew the truth, even if I didn’t. Perhaps that’s why He never blessed us with another child.”
She bit her lip.
“But our Winnie is blessing enough for me,” he continued. “And we’ll face Divine Judgment when the time comes. My mind is easy.”
His goodness, his acceptance, brought on more tears. “Michael Williams, you’re such a good and decent man, I don’t deserve you. But I love you so much.”
“Hush now, cariad. Just tell me you’ll marry me in London and give us a cwtch.” He opened his arms to her and she threw herself into them.
* * *
The doorbell rang just as Cecily had brought her husband into the drawing room and was in the middle of introducing him to everyone. Before Jane could excuse herself, Featherby ushered Zachary into the drawing room.
There was a chorus of greetings and congratulations.
“Thank you, everyone,” he said. “I would love to discuss it all with you, and I will later—I believe I’ve been invited for dinner?” Lady B
eatrice inclined her head graciously. He thanked her, and turned to Cecily. “And, Cecily, there are things we need to discuss, but first—” He turned back to Lady Beatrice. “May I speak to your niece in private?”
“Certainly, dear boy, but which niece? I have five for you to choose from.”
He grinned, began to turn away, then glanced back with an odd look. “Five? I thought there were only four.”
Lady Beatrice smiled. “I have a new niece, one you have not yet met. Lady Winifred Aston-Black, better known as Winnie Williams—your sister.”
“My sist—” He broke off and Jane saw how he looked, really looked, for the first time at Winnie. The child sat like a little mouse on the edge of her chair, gazing up at him—her magnificent big brother—with her heart in her eyes. Jane held her breath. Don’t let him rush this, she prayed.
“I have a sister?” Zach said in a wondering voice. He looked at Winnie and gave her one of his slow, heart-curling smiles. “I have a beautiful little sister. You cannot know how happy this makes me, Winnie,” he told her in his deep voice. “I have always wanted a little sister.”
If Jane hadn’t already fallen in love with him, she would have fallen at that moment.
And then he took his little sister’s hands in his big ones and lifted them one after another to be kissed. It was just right. Winnie blossomed under his gentle care and smile.
“I have always wanted a brother too,” Winnie said shyly.
Zachary laughed and caressed her cheek with one long finger. “I shall try to be a good one,” he told her. “But I will need lots of practice. I’m looking forward to showing you Wainfleet, little sister. The people there will be thrilled to meet you—a new daughter for Wainfleet.”
Cecily made a little sound in her throat and Zachary turned to her, saying, “First you give me my life back, and now, a sister, a precious gift for which I have no words.” He kissed Cecily’s hand. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Cecily snatched her hand back. “You can’t have her! I won’t give her up!”