The Duchess, feeling faint and overwhelmed, only said, “I had no idea, Lydia. I had no idea at all.”
“I have wanted to tell you for years,” Lydia replied. “But I knew how you would react. You would blame me. You would blame me for his adultery. You would blame me for telling her and preventing her becoming with child again. And I admit that I put my own happiness first. For in retrospect, I know I should not have told her. But I convinced myself that it was my duty to her as her friend to tell her. And of course, I did not tell her it was me that her husband was being indiscreet with. But I know I meant her harm all the same, for I told her just days after St. James was born.” And Lydia gave a wistful smile. “That is how I know that I meant her harm, for I could not have picked a more vulnerable time for her, you see. But at the time, I convinced myself that I was doing it for her.”
Her eyes met the Duchess's stare again, and they were a little startled, as though she had forgotten and remembered her presence simultaneously. “Do you see what love can do, Lenora? Drive you to where you would stab your own friend in the back for you wish to have what they have?”
The Duchess swallowed and said, “I know very well what love can do, Lydia. I have seen it bring about great good, and I have seen it bring about great evil. And all of it in the name of love.”
Lydia made no answer and the dowager asked, “What did it bring you to do, Lydia?”
But Lydia only smiled. “No, Lenora. That bit of melancholy recollection is all you shall get. There will be no further revelations tonight. You have only caught me out on a weak moment, I confess, for the lamplight in the early morning hour will do that to anyone.” She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief again. “I may have been a fool for love, but I assure you I never killed your son over such. Nor his wife. For she was my friend, as I had said.”
The duchess was perplexed and all that feeling she had of holding her breath went from her, and she was left to sit and stare at her daughter-in-law in bafflement.
Lydia seemed oblivious to her, or of the conversation they had just had. She rose and began packing again. The duchess watched her and tried to understand what was missing. Was St. James correct? Or had he made a gross mistake? If only he had confided in her. If only he had told her of what evidence he had. Surely it was not just some indication that Lydia had an affair with his father? St. James could not have based his presumption upon only that!
Lydia again wiped her face, and the Duchess realized that she was still quietly crying, even as she packed.
And something about the handkerchief in Lydia's hand tugged at her memory.
Something so clear and obvious that only its very evilness made it seem impossible—
Into the quiet movements of Lydia's packing, the Dowager spoke. “Yes. I've no doubt you loved my son, Lydia. But was that before or after you had already made your plans? Was your love for him the start of your schemes, or was it an unforeseen consequence?”
Lydia turned with such abrupt fury in her face that only then did the Dowager realize that Lydia had been playing upon her emotions with her tale as only the most masterful of liars were able to do. And if she had not been sitting down, she would have collapsed. But all the same, she held her eyes steady upon her daughter-in-law. “It was the title you craved for your own son! For although we did not yet know you were with child, you did!”
Lydia gave her a look of incredulity and the Dowager nearly thought she was mistaken again!
Then Lydia laughed, and it was not the gentle, pleasantly honed laugh of an incomparable, but a bitter, razor sharp one full of contempt and scorn. “And I have always been the one thought of as the fool!” she exclaimed. “Oh yes! I know you all think I am stupid! I've put up with the exasperated looks for years! 'Oh, I know she can be insufferable at times but I do not think she has the wit to know better',” she mimicked. “Dull Lydia. Dim Lydia. Vain Lydia. All she ever had was her looks and we must indulge her. Fools. The title was only the icing on the cake and the death of your precious grandson would have only been a very nice bonus!”
The Dowager panted as if she had just made this speech instead of Lydia. “Why?” she demanded and banged her cane. “Tell me why!”
“Why?” Lydia asked. “Ask your grandson, Lenora! Ask him why! Vengeance! Vengeance is why! Why else do you think I am packing? Why else do you think that I fear him? Because I know what lengths he will go to in seeking vengeance. I know what lengths I went to!”
Lydia was beyond caution in her contempt. It sizzled from her in molten words. “Your son betrayed me three times, Lenora. Three times!
“I was but sixteen when he seduced me. Does that shock you? Yes, my first season in London. I was the incomparable of the season and he was already married to Margaret, two years older than I. And I had met him of course, before this through her, for as I said, we were friends. But that had been the year before, and he had been blind to any but his new wife. But then I came to London to seek my own husband, and of course, Margaret being as she was, they were at every party, every function. And by the end of my first season, I was ruined, by him. And what did he have to lose, I ask you? Nothing. And I had everything to lose, for how could I marry when I was compromised? Everyone thought I was biding my time until the next year, waiting for a better catch. And the men swarmed around me and I wanted no one but him!
“And he did love me. It was not his fault that he had already married before I had my coming out. It was not his fault that he was a rare man that was not satisfied with the fact that I was an incomparable, but sought me out because he discovered that I was keenly intelligent also. He was not only unfaithful to Margaret with me in body, he was unfaithful to her in his mind and his wit, in our discussions of politics and religion, finance and history.
“And then Morty came home from University. And of course, he was as all the rest. He thought I was beautiful, but he had no further interest in me than that. Had no interest in my mind or what I thought or how I felt. But still, even then, I saw that it may one day become necessary. . . So where I put off the others, I allowed him to court me. But I hemmed and hawed, for I had been lucky for years by then. Dante had been born, of course, but I forgave William his birth, for Margaret was already pregnant when our affair began. But there were no other children and I knew it was because William was with me only and not his wife. But I feared that I would become with child as well, so I kept Morty where I wanted him, for years, the fool!
“And then it paid off. For I found myself, of course, with child. William's child. And how better to legitimize that babe than to marry William's own brother! He would have the proper last name and of course he would look like a Larrimer, for he was a Larrimer, and as there was but one heir between my child and William's title, my child's rightful title, it was a promising circumstance. But still, you see, I was content to leave well enough alone. Content to know that if something happened naturally my child would inherit and if he did not, well, he was still an Earl.
“And so I allowed Morty to compromise me, for I could not have him questioning the father of the child, and I was very frightened that he would not marry me then, but he only pushed up the wedding date and told everyone that we had courted for four years and that he would tolerate no further delay. And as I was nearly twenty-six, I am sure my family was only relieved rather than scandalized.
“So you see, I had given ten years of my life to William already. I was with his child. I had compromised myself with his own brother and schemed in great detail to insure his child's future. And how am I repaid for this? A month after our wedding, much too early for me to be able to decently announce that I am expecting, William's own wife stands up at the Christmas dinner table and announces that she is with child!”
Lydia paused, breathing hard. “I do not even know why I am telling you this,” she said. “Except that I have wanted to throw your son's behavior in your face for years! The man of great scruples set his scruples aside long enough to ruin a debutante! That was
sin number one, Lenora, and I forgave him for it. For he was in agony. I admit he was in agony also, all those years. But still, well, we shall get to that part in a moment. You will see how fully he betrayed me! How he was willing to forgo his scruples when it suited his wants, but not when it suited mine.
“Can you guess what sin number two was, Lenora? No? I can see you are quite speechless! I can see that you think I am mad. Sin number two was his adultery. Not to Margaret, for he had no care for her after all these years other than fondness and guilt. No. He was adulterous to me! He got her with child again after he had sworn to me time and again that they had not shared a bed since the first row they had after St. James was born.
“And not only had he betrayed me in this manner, I came to understand in my rage that he had also managed to shuffle back my own coming child, our child, another step from his rightful title and his rightful inheritance!
“And even this, I would have been willing to forgive. Even after this I was so blinded with love for him that I would have continued as we had been!
“But there was one more betrayal. And it came damningly upon the heels of that Christmas dinner. That very same evening we met in secret. He had shared a great deal with me about his work, and why should he not have for I fully understood it, every nuance of it. And I knew why he had been in China. I knew that the East India Company was lobbying for war so that they could continue to sell their precious opium. I had already bought every holding in that company that I could lay my hands on and people were dumping them right and left as the rumors flew of the company going bankrupt if action were not taken. I had done this already, you see, and urged him to do the same.
“But that night he advised me to buy no more and would not tell me more than that. But I pried. And I was ruthless, for the hurt of his wife's pregnancy was sore upon me, and I knew that I could see to my son's future beyond anything William would have for his other children if only this one gamble could be made to pay off, and I sensed in him that he would do something that would jeopardize it. And I went to his study when I could gain no more from him and I pried into his attaché and found the notes he had written to Queen Victoria herself.
“And there was the third betrayal. He knew how many shares I had bought in the company, but his precious scruples were such that he would see even me ruined before advise her against his conscience!
“It was very simple after that. I sent a note by messenger to the foreman of the East India Company shipping docks, who was in charge of the warehouses and all the dockworkers, suspecting that they were nervous for their jobs. And I hit upon a great bit of luck, for that man in charge of the docks was also, I later found, dealing a great deal of opium on the black market, and he feared having his supply dry up. He was very interested when he received my note saying that I knew of a way to remove a roadblock preventing the war between Britain and China.
“I set it up. I anticipated the moves. I knew William would go immediately upon a summons from the Queen. I knew Margaret would jump at the chance to escape Morningside and go back to her shallow partying and that Dante would plead in his pitiful way to be allowed to accompany them.
“The men were in place. The coach was brought around. In one act, I could ensure my holdings would be beyond value, my coming child would get his rightful inheritance, and William, well, William would pay for all of his perfidy.”
Lydia stopped, steadying herself. “So you see how it came about Lenora? It was not me but the three sins. The three sins of your son.
“It was not so bad that there should be three deaths to atone for them. And perhaps that is why St. James was allowed to escape, because then I would have not been even, but ahead. William, Margaret, and her unborn child. Three for three. And what I did was not so very wrong, for even had St. James died, it would still have been William's own son that would inherit. Andrew was born the son of a Duke, not an Earl.
“For twenty-three years I have lived with the consequences of my vengeance, Lenora. For twenty-three years I have lived with the specter of St. James digging about, seeking his own vengeance, and knowing that if he were not stopped that the trail would someday lead to me. And I do owe him now, for you were correct and I did kill Morty, for he was very close indeed, and I find that his will was made out in such a way as to confirm my suspicion, for did you know that he has stripped me of everything upon St. James' marriage? Oh, yes. So you see, even if I feel a little contrite, even if I feel that I may in fact deserve to die for what I have done, I can not let him have control of all that I worked so hard for if Andrew should die and the estate still be in St. James' control. I sacrificed too much to allow St. James to own it. And he is as bad, worse than his father. For he does not even have the decency to hide his sins, but flaunts them for all to see.
“He simply can not marry. I would have tolerated his being alive otherwise. I was certain he would die before Andrew, for look at the way he has lived, and I was content to wait. But you will not be too surprised to learn, I am sure, that with Miss Murdock's appearance on the scene that it has been necessary to take action once again. Even as we speak, I have assassins that may now be killing your precious grandson.
“And then who will stop me? You? Your aging butler? I think not.
For I am leaving and you will not find me and soon you will both die, for you are very old. And then Andrew will heed my every wish. He will be the Duke of St. James and I—”
But the Dowager attempted to stand at the words of St. James mayhaps even now being killed, and the specter of him lying helpless and injured, perhaps even now dead overcame her completely. Ashton, despite being numb with the horror of Lydia's revelations, automatically took the dowager's arm and helped her to rise. And even as the old lady rose, she turned the cane in her hand so that the heavy gold head of it raised high in the air. As Lydia spit out her final words of scheming, unable even now to see more than a minor hitch in her plans at being forced into exile, the dowager swung the cane with her weak but determined arm.
Lydia gave a squeak as, too late, she saw the blow coming. She jerked her arms up to deflect the blow, but it whistled down before she could defend herself and the heavy gold head of the cane caught her between the eyes.
She went down hard, a large round dent where the bridge of her nose had been, and she squirmed on the floor, her face a mass of running blood. Ashton released the Duchess's arm in horror as he realized what had been done and he backed quickly away.
But the dowager remained standing as she had patiently waited for twenty-three years and she was not about to allow her legs to keep her from her task now. Panting but determined, she whistled the gold head of her cane down on Lydia again. And a third time. And gasping, and clutching her chest, she brought it down a fourth time. Then she collapsed to the floor beside her daughter-in-law and her own throat gurgled, loud, raspy and prophetic, joining the gagging coming from Lydia. The two of them together rattled their last breaths, Lydia with her skull smashed in and the Duchess with an attack of her old heart. Ashton looked on helplessly and wondered however he was to explain this mess and his old heart felt close to an apoplexy itself.
He turned to the door, wanting first a steadying cup of tea and time to desperately think. And the door was opened, the chair that the dowager had risen from (with his help, God forgive him!) was pushed from in front of it and Ashton looked up and met the frozen eyes of Earl Larrimer.
They stared at each other for a long moment, both of them heavily breathing and immobile in their stances, and then Ashton cleared his throat and said, “I thought a cup of tea might be what was needed at this moment, milord, until I can quite get my wits back.”
Andrew nodded his head like a puppet, said in a dull voice, “Better put a large dose of whiskey in them, Ashton. I tell you what. You get the tea and I shall get the whiskey.” Ashton left the room and Andrew closed the door behind them, but whereas Ashton continued down to the kitchens, Andrew remained leaning against the door, his eyes closed
and every limb shaking for many minutes.
Then he pulled himself from the door, hobbled on his injured leg below stairs and to the drawing room. There he selected a fine decanter of liquor, removed the crystal stopper and took a deep drink.
Ashton shuffled in a moment later with a tea tray which he set down with a nervous rattle of his age-spotted hands. Andrew added whiskey to both cups and they drank until both cups were empty. Then they each poured another and added more whiskey, and only when these cups were finished did Andrew speak.
“Dreadful tragedy, Ashton. I take it an intruder managed to break into the house and murder my mother.”
“Indeed, sir. I am sure if we look closely enough we shall find a window has been broken.”
“And of course, my poor grandmother, brought by the screams of my mother, found her dead already and had an attack upon the sight of her dear daughter-in-law lying there with her face quite bludgeoned in,” Andrew went on with gruesome steadiness.
“And I daresay it was the coal shovel the intruder used.”
“Yes. Yes. The coal shovel. And of course the only reason the cane is bloody is that it fell into the midst of things when my grandmother died.”
“Indeed. And we shall have to have a look around to see what this murderer stole, for undoubtedly it was a robbery gone awry,” Ashton added in gloomy intone
“Without doubt. My poor mother must have wakened to find him there in her room. Bold bugger. I am most certain he must have stolen her rings from her very fingers. Most particularly her wedding bands,” Andrew ended on a bitter note.
“Yes. I am certain that I saw those missing already,” Ashton agreed. “Sad, sad business this, Earl Larrimer.”
“Yes. Well, tragedy happens to even the most deserving of persons, don't you agree. But, by God, Ashton, I do not know if I can bear it. I knew already, you know,” Andrew broke. “For St. James gave me the proof, although it took me the most of the journey from Chestershire to here to understand the full import of it, and bade me to get her from the country, of which is why I am here. It all could have been taken care of so neatly, and although I daresay I would have hated her, I would not have hated her enough to see her dead, for she was my mother. And grandmother, too. Oh, God, not grandmother.”
In the Brief Eternal Silence Page 60