“I am not used to knowing of any of this sort until it is quite finished,” the duchess lamented, and Miss Murdock spared her a sympathetic look.
“I am sure we worry for no reason, ma'am,” she comforted. “For St. James has far too much on his mind to allow himself to be drawn into anything so ridiculous, and of course, Bertie shall not let any harm befall his brother.”
“You sound very certain that it will not be St. James that comes to harm,” the Duchess said with equal measures of relief and irritation.
“Which is hardly more of a comfort, for I do not wish to see Ryan come to harm either. Oh, men are such bloody fools!”
“Indeed they are, Miss Murdock,” the Duchess agreed. “And I am afraid that my grandson is the biggest fool of them all.”
But before Miss Murdock could say anything in return, a pistol was fired from near at hand and she nearly dropped her coffee cup, stunned that they could, in fact, be so stupid! Her brown eyes flew to the Dowager's startled, faded ones, and then Miss Murdock sprang from her seat and slammed her cup down upon the table. “Well, it is done now, damn him! I shall kill him if he is not already lying dead!” But her own words bore home to her the very possibility that Ryan may have prevailed rather than the duke, and as much as she had tried to remain detached, she knew herself helpless to be so.
“Excuse me, ma'am,” she said and rushed from the room, not even aware of the Duchess struggling to arise from her own seat.
She did not have to search, upon coming outside, to find them, for they were immediately in her line of vision, but a short ways down the lane, and her first sight was of a small cloud of smoke drifting above Ryan and Andrew's heads, who seemed to be in some earnest and heated discussion.
The fact that Ryan was still standing filled her with dread.
Then she looked beyond them and her worst fear was brought to the fore as she saw St. James doubled over and clutching his stomach.
She picked up her skirts and flew down the steps, hot tears stinging her eyes. Ryan and Andrew turned toward St. James also and, as if her own action had spurred them, ran toward the duke, who oddly enough, had not yet fallen to the ground.
And Miss Murdock had but reached the head of the lane, where the wide drive in front of the house narrowed, when she saw St. James straighten as Andrew and Ryan reached him. She had one clear look at his face before he was blocked from her sight by the two taller young men.
She stopped running and stood motionless, for she saw that he was not injured, but was overcome with laughter to a near helpless degree.
She stood there for several minutes, her heart booming in her chest from her fright, and she called herself a fool. A bigger fool than the Dowager thought her grandson. A bigger fool, even, than she had been to ride from her home with him five mornings ago, to go to him in the night in his carriage, to go to him again and tend to his wounds, to go with him yet again when rushing from flames and from bullets, and then instead of cutting him off from her when she had a final chance, had contrarily crawled into his open arms, his open coat, and fused herself to his bleeding chest and rested and took comfort in him.
It all rushed home to her as she stood there for those few minutes, St. James immersed in mirth, and she immersed in terror. The one final thing he asked of her was nearly insignificant to all that she had already willingly given.
She was a fool to have thought that there would be some point of no return that she would recognize and heed and turn back before passing. She had passed it already, and she was not sure at which action taken it had been. It may have been the first, when she had cooked him a meal instead of giving him only coffee as he had asked, or perhaps not until the last, when he admitted to having every intention of killing Steven's father, and had threatened a seven year old boy, and she had not held him in abhorrence even then.
Perhaps for that second, she understood him completely.
He laughed at his own pain and his own misery. He was moved to an uncommon degree by the sufferings of others, but his own he disregarded as some old handicap that he had grown used to, had learned to not only bear it, but use it to some sick and twisted advantage. He killed without qualm, for he accepted his own death without qualm, and perhaps even with relief, for only then would grief, succored and nurtured, be at last laid to rest.
The very thing he sought to destroy another with destroyed him
also. And he called it justice. He called it vengeance.
Miss Murdock called it abomination.
The fact that she knew herself to be willing to die for him, she took as madness and iniquity, but she could not help herself, and neither would she fight it any longer. If he came to her at that moment and plunged a knife into his own heart, she would follow him without hesitation.
The small group of men that she stared at without seeing came into sudden activity, speeding toward the stables. She waited for St. James to look up, to see her there, to perhaps come to her, but he did not even glance in her direction and there was no longer any amusement in his face, nor those of the others.
Her father came into the lane from the back road to the stables, she noticed, and he rode in a cart, his dressing gown looking incongruous, and St. James paused to speak to him. And Miss Murdock noticed at last that Steven was there in the midst of the men, and somehow she knew that this could not be good, for Tyler and the curricle were no where to be seen.
As if drawn by her thoughts of him, Steven's gray eyes flashed over to her, finding a path through the restless movements of Ryan, Bertie and Andrew. St. James continued to the stables, the others following, and Miss Murdock's father was climbing from the cart, but Steven, alone, came toward Miss Murdock.
“What is the matter, Steven?” she asked as he came up to her.
“T'is Tyler, Miss! We was set upon on t'road, by the same two as had it in fer you an' t'duke, Tyler 'spects. He got wounded in 'is leg and t'horse he were ridin' went down. He rode with me for a ways, but then he couldn't hang on any further an' sent me on ahead to warn m'lord they was as like headed here sooner if not later.”
“And St. James is even now going to him?” she asked, but she knew that of course he would.
“Aye. T'is what he is 'bout now. I'm to take t'cart to fetch Tyler in, an' m'lord, he says he'll see that I'm undisturbed to go 'bout me business.”
“You will be careful, Steven, won't you?”
“Aye. Coo, miss! Wouldn't miss it, I wouldn't! For t'was a grand sight watchin' 'im get you from me 'ouse yesterday!”
“And you are getting more of an education than is necessarily good for you,” she told him. “But nevermind, for I would wager that milord trusts you more than Ryan or Andrew at any rate, and I doubt that he will take Bertie, for of course, he will ask him to stay here to keep me safe. Silly fool.”
“Aye, miss. T'is what I gathered,” Steven agreed. “But I had a message to give to t'duchess from Tyler, if she be up,” he added.
Surprised, Miss Murdock said, “Why I will give it to her if you do not wish to delay.”
And Steven looked very uncomfortable and only said, “Sorry, miss, but Tyler, he tolds me not t'give it t'anyone but t'duchess, not even m'lord himself. So's I better give it t'her meself.”
“Well, of course, then,” Miss Murdock agreed. “She is right through the door and on your left if she remains where I last saw her. Go on now, for I shall be going to the stables for a word with St. James before he leaves out of here without even a goodbye, which I would wager is his intention.”
Steven pulled at the lock of his hair and hurried past, and Miss Murdock turned to go to the stables. And she did not know if she were about to kill St. James or mayhaps save him, she only knew what had to be said and what had to be done.
There was a great deal of activity once she reached the stables, but for the most part it appeared to be useless. Only St. James was going about anything with an appearance of purpose, leading a horse that Miss Murdock was unfamiliar with from a stall partwa
y down the aisle.
Bertie and Andrew conferred in hushed tones with each other. Ryan walked with quick and flustered strides up the aisle with a saddle in his hands, its girth straps dragging so that he was nearly tripping on them causing Miss Murdock to wonder if that young man had ever even saddled his own horse.
A young groom ran toward milord, but his hands were empty and he appeared to not have the least idea what was expected of him.
At the same time, St. James said, “Damn it, Ryan, I need a bridle also!”
And Miss Murdock with perfect calmness went to fetch that item as Ryan awkwardly handed the saddle to the groom just arriving. The stirrup irons dangled, as well as the straps, and St. James stepped forward while still holding the horse's halter and with impatience flipped up one iron and one strap so the groom could place the saddle on the horse. He glanced up, perceiving Miss Murdock's presence and he hesitated in whatever dire curse he seemed about to utter.
Ryan turned, nearly ran into Miss Murdock as she came forward with the bridle. “Miss Murdock!” he exclaimed. “You should not be here now, for you will only get in the way, you know!”
But she only stepped around him and handed the bridle to St. James. He gave her a searching look that showed he was uneasy with her presence, but she only said, “Milord, if you think you and the groom have your mount well in hand, I should like to send Ryan to fetch for a doctor so that he may be here upon your and Tyler's return.”
His hands did not falter from forcing the horse's mouth open and placing in the bit of the bridle. “If it shall make you content to remain here, Miss Murdock, then I will agree. For I do not wish you to get some wild notion in your head that you are going to follow along with your needle and thread in order to run triage at the scene.”
“That is not my intention in the least,” she told him and he gave her a lauding look from his gold eyes despite his involvement in readying to go.
“You heard her, Ryan. Fetch the nearest doctor and have him waiting. I am sure the Squire can instruct you upon where that good man can be found.”
“I take it that you intend to go alone, milord, with only Steven to drive the cart?” Miss Murdock asked.
“Yes. And I will brook no argument upon that point either, Miss Murdock. Steven should be quite safe, as I intend to have whatever business needs being done finished before he should arrive. One way or the other.”
“Of course,” she agreed, and this time his hands stopped and he frowned at her.
“Unusually compliant, Miss Murdock. I find that foreboding rather than comforting.”
“I have every intention of meeting your wishes, milord, so indeed, you should find that comforting. I will not follow along behind you, nor will I argue and insist that you should take Bertie or anyone else with you. Nor do I have any doubt that you would die sooner than see Steven come to harm. I only ask that when you are finished here, that you meet me outside for a private word before leaving.” Only the small shaking in her voice warned him that there was something else going on in her mind that he was not going to like.
“Very well, Miss Murdock. But be advised that if I had any choice, I would not be delaying my plans for tonight so drastically, and hence I can not accommodate any of your wishes at this time that may run contrary to my going.”
“Indeed, I did not expect that you could.” She turned from him before he could say anything further, but she was very aware of his gold eyes on her back, frowning and concerned.
She stopped to speak to Lord Tempton before passing from the stables. “Bertie, as I take it you are to remain with me, I wish you to direct that Andrew's carriage be made ready as soon as possible, if you please.”
“Now, Miss Murdock,” he sputtered. “He'll not have you trailing him, as you should very well know!”
“Which is not my intention in the least—”
“And he'll not have you disappear—”
But she interrupted. “Tsk, Bertie, complain along the way, remember? For you shall only lose at any rate and it goes so much quicker than otherwise.”
He gave her a reluctant grin, his blue eyes twinkling. “You are as bad as he, Miss Murdock, when it comes to getting your own way.”
“And I shall be a great deal worse before I am through, but that will be for him to find out and so you must not worry upon that head. Now, I shall be outside, so you may go ahead, if you would, please.”
“Do you not wish me to wait until he leaves?” he asked in a conspiratory whisper.
“Oh, no. For whatever would be the point if he were not aware of it?”
Bertie chuckled, bowed in her direction. “You have my respect, Miss Murdock, for you are certainly much braver than I!” But as if proving his own words wrong, he shouted the length of the stables. “Groom here! I'll need Earl Larrimer's carriage brought up!”
St. James' head snapped around at this sudden order from Bertie, and Andrew turned from where he had been watching his cousin in some impatience as he had clearly desired to be of help and had not yet seen a chance to be. But Miss Murdock only turned and walked out.
She made her way to the far corner of the outside of the stables. There was a small grove of fruit trees here, their branches mostly bare now, but low hanging and dense, and she waited here for St. James to come out of the stables.
Her waiting was short, and when he arrived out, leading his horse, she could see from his face that he was thunderously angry. He caught sight of her, came to her and they both retreated around the corner of the stables and out of sight of any others. “I haven't time for this now, you wretched lass,” he began. “I will have explanation, but can tell you even now that you can disabuse yourself of whatever idea that you have.”
“But I am not asking permission, milord, I am merely apprising you of my plans so that you may make whatever necessary adjustments to your own.”
“Go on,” he said.
She had a sudden thought that perhaps this was the point of no return, and that she had not passed it after all.
As it was, she only duly noted the sign, chalked it off on her inner map as met and passed, and plunged ahead. “I will only be traveling to Gretna Green to await you, milord.”
And his face relaxed as though in relief. “I should have guessed, you misguided lass,” he told her. “And although I appreciate the sentiment to a degree that I am certain you can not even be aware, it is quite unnecessary.” His gold eyes searched hers for understanding, and when she did not change expression, he continued in a low voice, as though perhaps she needed explanation, of which, of course, she did not.
“I have let you down at every turn, Lizzie. But I have, at least, come to understand that my notion of protecting you with my name and my title is of no comfort to you, and perhaps, at least, I can find some satisfaction that if I can only make it through to day, that if we marry then, it will be because of your own desire, and not because I have induced you by one unsavory action after another.
“For you must understand that if I die, you will be again safe. And if I live, it will only be because this is all at last at a finish, and so you shall be safe also. But either way, a trip to the border now is either too late or too soon, but not needed in any way at this time,” he ended softly.
But she still did not change expression, only waited for him to finish.
He frowned at her lack of response. “I'm sorry, Lizzie, if that inadequately expresses my sentiment for you, but you must understand that I have been in the midst of pushing you as far from my mind as I am able. I can not go into this with any desire to live, or I shall die as surely as if I put a gun to my own head.”
At last she spoke, her voice flat. “No. You would have no care if you lived if it were only your life at stake, would you?” But there was no question in her voice.
His expression darkened and his eyes rekindled. “Do not question my methods, Lizzie. It is not easy to kill and if I am not equally willing to chance all that I have, I will hesitate at expecting the s
ame from another, no matter what the motivation. Even that second's hesitation can be damning.”
“Well, milord,” she replied, “since you insist upon speaking as though you were at a gaming table, I am just going to up the ante on you a small bit. I am going to Gretna Green as I have said, being absolutely aware of your saying that it is not necessary. Bertie will accompany me so that you have no fear for my safety or distraction in what you must do. And I will await there for you, forever if it is necessary, until you either arrive to marry me, or send word that you are alive and well but have decided you do not wish to marry me after all, of which, I would not blame you, especially after what I am about to add.”
“You are exhausting me again, Miss Murdock,” he warned, his voice rough. “I do not blame you for seeing to it that I fulfill the promise I made to your father, especially after all that I have put you through, but it irks me considerably for you to think that you have to in some manner induce me to do so! If I live, I shall marry you, and if you can not believe that, perhaps you can believe this!” He snagged her with the hand that was not holding his horse's reins, and pulled her against him. His eyes bored into hers for a brief second, but before he could lower his mouth to hers, she stopped him.
“No. Not until you have heard what I have to say.”
His eyes flared and snapped and he did not release her from him, but neither did he kiss her, and his lips twisted with grimness. “I haven't the time for this, Miss Murdock,” he told her. “You are doing your damnedest to ruin my resolve and as I tell you I shall go at any rate, I see no purpose in it other than you must wish to see Tyler and Steven killed as well as myself!”
“Then I will take responsibility for those deaths,” she told him brashly. “As well as the others that you, I am sure, will kill, including your Aunt, which I am sure will kill Andrew, and possibly your grandmother!”
“Damn you,” he said, his voice harsh. “Do you think I can leave it be now, you little fool! Do you think I can go and bring Steven's father back to life and tell him it was all a mistake, and that I am sorry but since it is my aunt that did this dreadful deed that I quite changed my mind and shall merely lie down and allow her to kill me and you! Is that what you think?”
In the Brief Eternal Silence Page 54