Marianne & the Marquis

by Anne Herries

  She was speaking again. He crushed the rising need she aroused, bringing his thoughts back to what she was saying.

  ‘I am entirely at fault. But I believe I have seen you…the other day at the top of the cliffs. I thought you might be my great-aunt’s tenant? At Cliff House…’

  ‘You are staying with Lady Edgeworthy? I thought she lived alone with a companion?’ Drew frowned, his mind instantly alert, for the presence of a girl like this at the house might complicate matters, and not only because of the effect she had on his senses. ‘For how long, may one inquire?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Marianne said. ‘For as long as my aunt needs me, I think.’

  ‘I see…’ He nodded his head. He must walk on! This would not do. He had no place in his life for dalliance with a girl like this! ‘I am glad to have met you. Good morning, mistress.’ He tipped his hat to her and moved on, frowning at his thoughts. If she perchance knew him, which was not impossible, for she obviously had good connections…she might reveal his true identity and that would be the end of all his hopes of remaining a shadow in the background. Besides, he needed all his wits about him, and he wanted no distractions in the shape of a girl like that! Drew knew his chances of trapping the French spy and the English traitor were slim, and would vanish into the mist if he became an object of interest to the community. Should his real name be known, he would be inundated with visitors and invitations, as he had been at Marlbeck before he made his escape—and that was the last thing he needed!

  Marianne turned her head to watch him as he crossed the road to the inn and went inside. He had been friendly at first, but then his manner had changed suddenly, becoming almost rude. Why? What had she done or said to offend him?

  She puzzled over it for a moment, then put it from her mind as she went into the tiny haberdashery shop. Its shelves and counters were crammed full of things that ladies needed, and she thought it was like a chest of treasure trove, knowing that she would always be happy to spend an hour or so here, spending her shillings on things for her sewing.

  When the invitation to stay with her great-aunt had arrived, Marianne had imagined it would be for a few weeks, but Lady Edgeworthy was clearly hoping for something more. It was certainly a pleasant place to live. The village of Sawlebridge was large enough to support several small shops and it was but a pleasant carriage ride from Truro. She would find it no hardship to live here for some months, though she might begin to miss her mother and sisters after a while, but for the moment she was very content to be her great-aunt’s guest.

  She left the shop an hour or so later, carrying her silks and some lace to trim a nightgown. Her gaze strayed to the front of the posting inn a little further along the street, which consisted of several nice houses at one end, and finished in a huddle of fishermen’s cottages at the other. There was also a forge, small baker’s shop, an ironmonger’s and a rather seedy-looking inn right at the far end. The man she had bumped into earlier was talking to a groom outside the posting inn, but he seemed to sense that she was looking at him and turned his gaze on her. For a moment their eyes met and held.

  Marianne felt her cheeks growing warm. She turned away, walking in the opposite direction. It was a walk of some twenty minutes or more to her aunt’s house, and much of it up a steep incline, but she strode out with a will. The very hot weather had gone and she enjoyed walking. After a while, she caught glimpses of the sea, which was white-crested with foam and looked dark grey. She had enjoyed herself. A visit to the village would always be a way of passing the hours in the mornings, because Aunt Bertha did not rise until noon.

  To reach Sawlebridge House, Marianne had to branch away inland from the cliffs, although she had been on her great-aunt’s land for some minutes. At the top of the cliffs, she looked back and noticed that the man she had just seen outside the inn appeared to be following her, because he had no need to come this way to reach his house. She decided that she would wait for him to come up with her.

  ‘Did you wish to speak with me, sir?’

  ‘My name is Beck—Drew Beck. I was not following you. I find it easier to come this way. Lady Edgeworthy gave me permission to take the shortcut across her land. I have been ill, you see.’ Drew managed to cough twice behind his hand.

  ‘I dare say it must be quicker and perhaps safer than the cliff road,’ Marianne said with a cool nod. ‘Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Miss Marianne Horne—and Lady Edgeworthy is my great-aunt.’

  ‘I believe you said as much earlier, though not your name.’ Drew felt relieved. She did not appear to know his true identity, for if she had he believed she would immediately have said so.

  ‘Are you planning a long stay, Mr Beck?’

  ‘Perhaps a few months. The sea air is good for me. I need peace and quiet…time to rest and recuperate.’

  Marianne’s eyes went over him. She thought he looked extremely fit and healthy, though one’s looks did not always reflect a true picture, of course. Yet he could hardly have put his shoulder to that coach the way he had if he were recovering from an illness. Her first instincts were to trust him, and yet she suspected him of lying about his health. However, she would give him the benefit of the doubt for the moment. She inclined her head politely, though she did not smile, because she sensed a reserve in him.

  ‘Then no doubt we shall meet occasionally. My aunt welcomes visitors and she plans to give a dinner soon. She will probably invite you, but I am sure she will understand if you decline…for your health’s sake.’

  ‘If she invites me, I shall come.’ Drew could have bitten his tongue off the moment he had spoken. He had intended to stay clear of all such affairs, but something about this girl had penetrated his armour. Besides, he would need an excuse to move freely over the Sawlebridge estate. ‘Please tell Lady Edgeworthy that I shall call tomorrow.’

  ‘Then you might as well come for tea,’ Marianne said, slightly taken aback—she had thought he would decline. ‘I am sure that Lady Edgeworthy will be delighted to receive you, Mr Beck.’

  They had been walking together, falling naturally into step as they talked, but now a fork in the road meant that they must go in different directions.

  ‘I think you must go that way, Miss Horne,’ Drew said. ‘My path is in this direction. We shall meet again soon.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Goodday, sir—and be careful of the cove. I have been told that the tide comes in swiftly and it might be dangerous at certain times.’

  Drew hesitated, then, ‘Yes, I believe it might be very dangerous for the unwary, Miss Horne. Thank you for your advice—and be careful when walking on the cliffs. I know that more than one person has met with an accident there.’

  Marianne was thoughtful as she walked on. There had been something odd in his manner as he spoke of the cove being dangerous for the unwary. Was he warning her to stay away from that part of the cliffs—and, if so, why?

  He had told her his name, but a name meant nothing—and she had the strangest sensation, as if she ought to know him. As far as she could recall, they had never met before that morning—for one could not call a glance as they passed a meeting—but there was something about him that made her thoughtful. When their eyes met as she passed him in her uncle’s coach, she had felt such an odd sensation—as if for one brief second they had communicated without words, as if they had always known each other. Oh, what a foolish girl she was! It must just be that chance meeting on the road that made her feel she had met him previously—or someone like him before.

  She was aware of feeling a certain caution concerning him, though he seemed perfectly respectable—but who was he really and why had he taken the house at the top of the cliffs? And why was she always catching sight of him when she went out walking? He said he was here for his health, but in her opinion Mr Beck appeared to be perfectly well. It was not her business, of course, but it was curious.

  The new tenant had told Aunt Bertha that he wished to be alone for a while, but it seemed that he had changed h
is mind and was ready to dine with them. Marianne wondered about his true reasons for coming to Sawlebridge. She did not exactly mistrust him, but she sensed something hidden. Another mystery to solve.

  However, a moment later she forgot Mr Beck, for a carriage had drawn up outside the front of her aunt’s house and a man was getting out. Marianne knew that he had not seen her and she was able to observe him at her leisure. He was perhaps five and thirty and of medium height. His clothes proclaimed him a gentleman, but were of a sober cut and hue. Despite that, he was attractive with light brown hair, cut short and brushed forward in a fashionable style. As he turned towards her, she saw that he had a gentle, pleasant face. He had noticed her now and was staring at her with interest, waiting for her to reach him.

  ‘We have not met,’ he said, his eyes travelling over her with interest, ‘but I think you must be Miss Marianne Horne. Lady Edgeworthy may have mentioned me? I am Joshua Hambleton.’

  ‘Mr Hambleton, of course,’ Marianne said and dipped slightly. She held out her hand to him, but instead of shaking it, he raised it to his lips to kiss it briefly.

  ‘Charming, quite charming,’ he murmured as Marianne removed her hand from his. ‘I had heard that you were lovely, but I had not realised you would be so beautiful…’

  Marianne felt slightly awkward, for his compliment was too much. ‘Does Aunt Bertha expect you, sir? She did not mention it to me this morning.’

  ‘She ought to have had my letter,’ he said and frowned as though he did not care to be questioned. ‘Though I have been used to visiting as I choose. Has she recovered her spirits? When she wrote that you were coming down, I hoped for improvement. I do not like to see her so low.’

  ‘Yes, she seems more comfortable now that I am here. She means to entertain more for my sake and I believe that may be what she needs. She has cut herself off from her friends here and I think she misses going into society as she did.’

  ‘This place is rather isolated,’ Joshua agreed, looking concerned. ‘I have suggested that she should take a house in Bath and leave the management of the estate to me. I should be happy to take care of things here while she was away.’

  ‘This is her home,’ Marianne said. ‘But a change of situation might benefit her. It is, of course, her own choice.’

  ‘You must help me to persuade her,’ Joshua said. ‘I am sure you would enjoy a visit to Bath yourself.’

  ‘No, I do not think that would be right. I am perfectly content here for the moment,’ Marianne assured him. ‘But perhaps in the winter, if my aunt should wish for it…but I would not presume to influence her one way or the other.’

  She saw him frown. Her answer had not pleased him. She had a feeling that he was hiding his true sentiments—and she sensed that he was frustrated or angry about something.

  ‘Oh, there you both are,’ Jane said, coming out of the house. ‘I wondered what was keeping you, Mr Hambleton—and I was beginning to fear that you had got lost, Marianne. It is not always easy to find your way about in a place that is new to you.’

  ‘Oh, no, I was not lost. It is a fair walk from the village, and I stopped to speak to Aunt Bertha’s tenant for a moment or two.’

  ‘Tenant…’ Joshua Hambleton looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘You mean at the cliff house, I suppose. It was unwise to let it to a fellow she knows nothing of. I cannot think why she did it.’

  ‘Mr Beck seems a perfectly decent gentleman,’ Jane said before Marianne could reply. ‘Please come in and make yourself comfortable, Mr Hambleton. Lady Edgeworthy will be down shortly for nuncheon. Your room is ready for you as always.’

  Marianne went into the house ahead of them. It was obvious that they were on good terms and knew each other well. They did not need her, and she wanted to change her gown and tidy herself before joining the others in the dining parlour.

  It had been an interesting morning and she had a great deal to occupy her thoughts. There were two mysteries that needed to be solved here—but were they in any way connected? She had no idea for the moment. All she could do was to watch and listen.

  Walking back to the house on the cliffs, Drew found thoughts of Miss Horne had invaded his head. He was thinking of her, of her eyes and her husky laughter—and her very kissable mouth. Such thoughts were a distraction. He was here for a purpose and had no time for dalliance. Besides, he must do nothing that might trigger her memory, for he believed that they might have met once years ago when they were both still children. He had been staying with his uncle at the time, and had encountered a pretty young girl in the woods. She could have been no more than ten or eleven, and he was fourteen. She had been picking blackberries and he had reached some that grew on a tall bush for her, eating some himself and teasing her with a ripe fruit until she took it from his fingers with her lips. It was an innocent encounter—he had been a boy then, untainted by all that was to come after. He had kissed her cheek and she had laughed, telling him that her papa would welcome him to the Vicarage, and that he should taste her mama’s apple-and-blackberry pie, but he had never visited her at home, for the next day he had been sent away to school.

  She had obviously forgotten him and the kiss he had given her. It piqued him a little, for he had remembered the incident shortly after she had told him her name. His pride was stung by the knowledge that she had not recognised him, though in truth there was no reason why she should. He could not quite remember—had he told her his name that day or merely that his uncle was the Marquis of Marlbeck? Perhaps he had told her that he was called Andrew, as he had been at his uncle’s house in those days.

  Was it only pride that had made him suggest a further meeting? Did he want to force her to remember? How foolish that would be! She was certainly beautiful, and he sensed that she had something more than that—a hidden fire that smouldered below the surface. She had been cool with him that morning, but in the woods he had known that the spark of mischief was there, and his new friend had enchanted him. Had he not been sent away, he would most certainly have sought her out again.

  Damn it! It was an isolated incident from his childhood. He had not thought of it for years, and neither had she. It was unlikely that she would, which meant it was safe enough to visit Lady Edgeworthy. And yet he knew that the danger in meeting the beautiful Miss Horne again did not lie only in the possibility that she might one day remember a boy who had picked blackberries for her.

  Drew smiled wryly. He was playing with fire and he knew it, but at the moment he didn’t care. She moved him as few women ever had. He had felt the desire raging inside him, known that he wanted her urgently—though he had no idea why she had such a powerful effect on him. He was not a green youth to lust after any pretty girl.

  He would be foolish to jeopardise a mission that meant so much to him for the sake of a woman, however lovely and desirable she might be. He was here to unmask Jack’s spy—a man who might have betrayed Drew and his friends. If this man was still passing information to the enemy, he needed to be stopped. Only after the affair was settled would Drew be free to think of his own pleasure.

  He pushed the thought of her from his mind. He had more important things to do than run after a pretty girl!

  Marianne was dressing for dinner when she heard the voices in the garden below. She went to her open window and looked down, seeing that Jane was walking with Dr Thompson. They seemed to be talking earnestly, lost in each other, their expressions serious, almost anxious, and then the doctor said something and Jane laughed. Marianne could see her face, and in that moment she was transformed from the quiet mouse who knew her place as Lady Edgeworthy’s companion into a girl who thrived on the attentions of her lover.

  Now where had that thought come from? Marianne shook her head. It would be wrong to label them as lovers when she had no idea if it was true. She was certain that Jane felt something for the doctor, and it seemed to follow that he cared for her—but there was no sin in them enjoying each other’s company.

  Marianne would not
have condemned the companion if she had sought solace in the arms of her lover, for her life must be dreary at times. At the beck and call of an elderly lady, she had no real freedom, or any life of her own. Yet she had accepted that when she took the position and it was no reason to try to harm her employer.

  Could she have hoped that by adding laudanum to Lady Edgeworthy’s medicine she would simply go to sleep and never wake again? If murder was planned, it was a kinder one than many. Lady Edgeworthy’s death would set Jane free—and if she and the doctor had been left sufficient money to make a life together…it was certainly motive enough.

  Marianne frowned—she did not like to think that Jane or the doctor could have plotted such a thing. It was unkind in her even to consider it! Having met Mr Hambleton, who seemed at first sight a pleasant gentleman, she found it difficult to believe that he would murder his cousin’s wife. Lady Edgeworthy had been good to him, and it would be gross ingratitude to try to cut her life short simply for the money she might leave him in her will.

  It seemed more and more likely that one of the maids had crept into Lady Edgeworthy’s bedroom to borrow some laudanum and had fled when she cried out. Marianne decided to see if she could discover what the usual arrangement was for the distribution of powerful medicines to members of the household. Her great-aunt had told her that the butler held them under lock and key—but did the maids know that?

  Leaving her bedchamber, Marianne went downstairs. She saw one of the maids carrying a tray of glass and silver into the dining room and followed her. Three girls were giggling together as they laid the table for dinner that evening, one of whom was Bessie, but they fell silent as they realised she was there.