“How old are you now, Anne?” Dante asked, thinking Anne bore a startling resemblance to Bess when young.
“Eleven,” Bess answered quickly.
Alastair choked on his brandy. Whipping out his handkerchief, he wiped his tearing eyes, a look of horror on his face as he eyed Anne Seacombe.
“Mother!” Anne said in disbelief. “You know I am well past fifteen. We celebrated my birthday months ago,” she reminded her mother, staring at her as if she’d gone mad.
“Really?” Bess said. “I can scarcely keep up with the years anymore. Are you certain?” Bess laughed weakly, wondering where time had gone, and taken her life with it. Glancing at Rhea, she was struck again, unpleasantly so, by her incredible beauty. Damn her, Bess thought, and glancing down into the sherry swirling around in the glass she held so tightly, she could see her own reflection. Suddenly she seemed old and haggard, for the face reflected there was distorted and ugly and mirrored her future. “Good Lord, all this talk of birthdays is bringing on a migraine. I was so young when Anne was born, why we’ve often been mistaken for sisters, haven’t we, child?” Bess asked, unwilling to give in to time’s passage.
Rhea suddenly felt very sorry for Bess Seacombe. She hadn’t missed the stricken look on the older woman’s face when her daughter said she was fifteen. Rhea knew that Bess must be suffering for losing Dante, let alone to a younger woman. Rhea understood the despair Bess was feeling, for she herself would not be able to go on living if she lost Dante.
The hour that followed seemed an eternity. Finally Bess thought she heard the winds dying down. She wasted no time bidding her host and hostess farewell, for she could stomach only so much, and seeing that possessive, loving expression in Dante’s gray eyes when he gazed at his wife was almost too much for Bess.
The worst of the storm had indeed passed when Bess was helped into the saddle by a strong young groom. She was riding a horse borrowed from Dante’s stable.
“We’ll keep Bristol Boy here as long as you like, Bess,” Dante offered, standing beside Rhea as they watched their guests depart.
“Thank you,” Bess replied gratefully. She had looked in on her horse and couldn’t find anything to complain about in the way his injury was being handled. Clauson seemed to know his job. “I’ll be back over in a couple of days to see how he is doing. I should be able to take him home then.”
“Are you certain you want to take that path across the moors? It’ll be muddy after the rains,” Dante asked, concerned. “I’m going to send a couple of the grooms along to escort you,” he decided suddenly, for he would hate to see Bess and her children stranded on the moors when darkness fell. “There is no hurry about sending the extra horse back, Bess. If you need it to replace Bristol Boy, then keep him awhile.”
“That is not necessary, Dante,” Bess said, but she was pleased that he should care. It had been a long time since anyone had been concerned about her welfare. “And thank you for the offer, but I have a well-stocked stable. It’s one of the few things Harry left me,” Bess said with a bitter smile.
“Nevertheless, I intend to see that you reach Seawyck with no further delays.” Dante intended no slight, but to Bess it sounded as if he could hardly wait to get her off his hands.
“Thank you,” she said in such a subdued voice that both Dante and Rhea glanced at her in surprise, wondering what was wrong.
Rhea and Dante remained standing together in the opened doorway of the lodge, watching the Seacombes and the two grooms ride away.
“She is not a very happy woman, Dante,” Rhea spoke sadly. “I feel so sorry for her.”
Dante glanced at his wife, smiling. “I can remember quite well when you were of a mind to send her to the gallows,” he reminded her.
“She has suffered enough for the mistake she made all those years ago. She lost you. Instead, I have you,” Rhea said, looking up at him, little realizing how seductive her look was.
“I would have said that I have you,” Dante responded, and since they were alone on the small entrance porch, he took Rhea in his arms and held her close, the warmth of her body burning his. Then his lips met hers in a long, tender kiss.
Bess glanced back at the lodge just in time to see them locked in that passionate embrace. Her eyes filled with tears. It was not fair, she thought, feeling such a deep bitterness that it almost tasted like poison in her mouth.
“Mother? How could you possibly have thought I was only eleven years of age?” Anne demanded, which was the wrong question at the wrong time. “You knew very well how old I am. We spoke only recently of how other girls my age were wed and even giving birth,” Anne continued, and the unpleasant thought that she could very easily be a grandmother soon hit Bess like a blow to the stomach.
“Well, my dear, you know how old age makes a person forgetful,” Bess said between gritted teeth, little realizing how very beautiful she was looking with her windblown hair and her cheeks flushed to a rosy hue, her dark eyes sparkling with anger.
“I cannot believe how very beautiful Lady Jacqobi is. And she is so nice too. Not at all what you would expect of a duke’s daughter,” Anne said, salting the wound. “And, Mother, I can see why you were so much in love with Dante Leighton. Why, he is the handsomest man I have ever seen,” Anne went on. “He looks just like a Greek god. Don’t you think so, Mother? And did you see how very attractive that nice Mr. Marlowe is?” Anne asked hesitantly, blushing.
“No, I didn’t, but then my eyesight isn’t what it used to be,” Bess muttered. “If you are casting your eyes at any one, then I should take a closer look at Lord Chardinall, for he will be a duke one day, and a very, very wealthy young man. He’s damned attractive too—for a mere boy, that is,” Bess added on a savage note.
“Mr. Marlowe is very wealthy too, Mother. He had quite a large sum of that sunken treasure they found. I overheard that young Conny Brady talking about it. It was quite an adventure. But, anyway, I would think you would be pleased that I care more about my feelings for a man than for his bank account. After all, that was the mistake you made,” Anne reminded her mother, which was the last thing Bess wanted to hear.
Anne eyed her mother in growing concern, for her mother could have a terrible temper. Not that she ever hurt them; it just made her more difficult to live with. “What is wrong, Mother? Have I said anything to anger you?”
“Anger me? Of course not, my child,” Bess denied in a tight voice. “I am just surprised by some of the things that seem to be on your mind of late. Like men,” Bess couldn’t resist adding. “There is plenty of time, Anne.”
“But, Mother, you were little older than I am when you were engaged to Dante Leighton. Why should it be different with me?” Anne asked.
“Mother? Conny and Lord Robin said I could come over anytime and go exploring with them,” Charles’s young voice piped in, reminding Bess of yet another responsibility. It didn’t help to think that her son was the same age as Dante’s wife’s brother. “Can I, Mother? Can I?” he pleaded.
“Oh, Charles, not now,” Bess said, cutting off his pleas, but when she saw his hurt expression, she relented. “I shall have to think about it. Ask me tomorrow, dear.”
“Yes, Mother,” Charles said in his usual subdued tone.
“You don’t like Lady Jacqobi, Mother,” Anne said suddenly, much to Bess’s surprise. “She is a very polite person, and I could see that she was trying to be very nice to you.”
“Nice? Pity, is what it was,” Bess said harshly, her anger spewing forth at last. “You could see it in those big violet eyes. Who ever heard of a person with violet eyes? Lord help me if I don’t scratch them out,” Bess said, glancing back to make certain the grooms from Merdraco hadn’t overheard.
“I don’t understand you, Mother,” said Anne. Having never been in love, Anne couldn’t understand the desperation her mother felt.
“That is because you are so damn
ed young. Well, you just wait, my girl, until you are my age and you see the only man you have ever loved come swaggering home with a wealthy duke’s beautiful daughter, and I’ll wager you’ll not be welcoming her with open arms. Talk about rotten luck,” Bess raged, her vision blurring with hot tears. “It isn’t enough to have made a mistake, but to have to keep on paying for it, well, ’tis just too much. Who would have thought Dante would become the man he has? Or return to Merdraco as rich as Croesus? Lord, the infamy of it all,” Bess cried, wondering what more could happen.
“Mother?”
“What?” she sniffed, wiping away her tears with the back of a gloved hand.
“I think that is Jack Shelby coming toward us with some of his men,” Anne said in a quivering voice. She still had nightmares about the night Jack Shelby had attacked her mother.
Bess Seacombe could have cried all over again. Jack Shelby was fast becoming one of her more vexing problems. Sniffing back her tears, she raised a haughty chin and prepared to face whatever insults would come of this encounter. She was glad that Dante had insisted on sending the two grooms with them, not that either lad could really have done anything to help should Shelby turn meaner than normal.
“Well, well, what have we here?” his hateful voice called. Bess found herself shuddering at the mere sight of the man, for she could remember only too painfully the feel of his hands on her body. “Been out for a ride, have we?”
“How very observant,” Bess said.
“Still the uppity one, eh, Bessie?” he asked, thinking he’d never seen her looking more seductive. “Thought I’d taught you a lesson or two about not showin’ me proper respect,” Shelby said with a meaningful glance at her bodice. The wild beating of her heart was causing the lacy jabot at her throat to flutter.
“It must have slipped my mind,” Bess remarked, as though anything he might have to say was not worth remembering.
“Ah, Bessie, you’re quite a woman. Reckon I’ll have to be teachin’ ye that lesson again real soon. Only this time,” he said with a piercing glance at a pale-faced Anne, “I don’t think there will be any interruptions. Will there, Annie girl?”
Bess saw the petrified expression in Anne’s dark eyes and cursed Shelby to hell for frightening her daughter. “If you don’t mind, we are in rather a hurry to reach Seawyck before it rains again,” Bess told him.
“Oh, well, by all means, m’lady. I wouldn’t want ye catchin’ your death of cold because of me,” Shelby said in elaborately polite tones, then asked with a suddenness that took Bess by surprise, “What ye been doin’ on this path? It leads to Merdraco. Oh-ho, so you couldn’t resist payin’ a call on your old beau, eh, Bessie?” he said, roaring with laughter at her outraged expression.
“Get out of my way!”
“And how does he look to ye after all this time?” Shelby taunted unmercifully. “Reckon ye paid your respects to that pretty young thing he’s brought back with him, eh, Bess, old girl? Now, that is one sweet little lady he’s got warmin’ his bed. Aye, that bastard always had an eye for a slim ankle.”
Bess glared at Shelby’s gloating face, knowing how fast she could wipe away that grin. “We took tea at the lodge, which Lady Jacqobi has fixed up to look absolutely beautiful. And, of course, now that Lord Jacqobi has returned so wealthy, ’twill be no time at all before he has Merdraco looking just like it did years ago—perhaps even grander. Now that he has an heir to inherit Merdraco, the Leighton line will continue.”
Shelby’s face changed with every word Bess uttered, and for a moment Bess was actually afraid. But he had pushed her too far, and the memory of that tender scene between Dante and Rhea still rankled, and she did not feel charitable toward anyone just then, least of all this swine.
“Reckon his lordship oughta be enjoyin’ every single moment he’s got, for he’s not goin’ to be around much longer to enjoy his money or that pretty wife. His son may inherit Merdraco a lot sooner than he thinks. He may have gotten away with it once, but he’ll pay for killing my Lettie, you just wait and see,” Shelby vowed.
With a curt nod at Bess, he sent his horse down a narrow, twisting path that led off across the moor, his men following close behind. Shelby was one of the few men who knew how to steer clear of the dangerous bogs, and Bess could have sworn that she heard his laughter drifting back to them as the riders became specks in the distance.
“Mother?” Anne asked softly, but Bess pretended not to hear. “Mother, why didn’t you say something? You could have told him that Lord Jacqobi didn’t murder his daughter. You told me you had proof. Why did you let him go on believing that? Why did you let him threaten Lord Jacqobi like that? Why, Mother? What if he murders Dante Leighton? It will be your fault,” Anne said. And for the first time ever, when Bess met her daughter’s dark eyes, she saw contempt. It struck deep into Bess’s heart and soul as nothing else could have.
But having lived the lie for so long, she wondered what she could possibly do now. Was it not already too late to do anything about the secret she had kept for so many years?
* * *
“’Tis our secret, Robin,” Conny whispered between sips of hot chocolate.
“Aye. Just like pirates’ buried treasure, eh, Conny?” Robin whispered back excitedly. Besides, he’d be in trouble if Rhea learned they had gone down to the beach in defiance of Dante’s warning, and when Robin exchanged glances with Conny, who was keeping a careful eye on the captain, he knew that Conny was worrying about the very same thing.
So neither boy told about how they had nearly drowned. Neither boy talked about their dangerous climb up the slippery rocks, or about the cave. And neither boy revealed the astounding discovery of the underground passage they found leading out of the second cavern they fled into when the sea swelled into the cave. That tunnel, the sides and roof shored up with hand-hewn timbers of great age, led up through the darkness for what seemed like miles, to a flight of stone steps that led directly into the lodge. It was an exciting discovery, and they were sure that nobody else had made it.
That was why Kirby had not seen them return to the lodge. The boys had climbed the stone steps, which stopped before a wooden panel. Peering through a peephole that was disguised on the other side as a plain knothole, they stared in giggling amazement into the empty corridor leading back to the lodge kitchens. They slid back the panel, Robin’s expertise with the secret passages of Camareigh helping to locate it, and emerged into the safety and warmth of their very own home. That was when Kirby spotted them, assuming they had entered through the kitchens.
Thus another secret came into their lives. It was a secret that might very well end in tragedy.
Thirty-one
After a storm comes a calm.
—Matthew Henry
Great black curling plumes of smoke rose into the cloudless blue skies over Merdraco. Seeing from a distance the glowing copper flames tinged with indigo, one would have thought this was some bizarre danse macabre. In the courtyard the blackened skeletons of chairs and tables and chests were stacked high into a funeral pyre, purging Merdraco of the defilement perpetrated against it.
Dante stood close to the heat of the fire, raising his face to both sun and flame as he cleansed himself of the vileness and dishonor that had marked Merdraco. And like the immortal Phoenix rising from the ashes, Dante saw in the burning bright flames a new beginning for Merdraco.
The flames leaped high into the sky, trying to outdo the sun, but Dante continued to stand there in silence, honoring the memories of those Leightons who had gone before him and in whose name he would carry on the traditions of Merdraco.
Blinded by the dazzling light, Dante heard rather than saw the peregrine falcon soaring overhead in search of prey. His cry was the harsh, predatory cry of the hunter, but it lasted for only a second, and in the ensuing silence, Dante heard the soft, melodic cooing of a wood pigeon. It was the gentle song of that ringdo
ve that remained in his thoughts, for at last he had found peace within himself. He had banished all the old, haunting memories, as well as purging Merdraco, so perhaps the dead could at last rest in peace and he could get on with the day-to-day joys and sorrows of living.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Dante turned away from the fire, which was consuming the past. He left to the workmen from Merleigh, who had arrived punctually that morning, the pleasure of completing the task he had started. Some pieces of furniture had escaped the flames. They were the ones that a little sanding and refinishing would restore. But Dante had not wanted them, and had told the workmen to keep whatever they felt they could use.
When they had first come into the courtyard and heard what he had to say, he had caught concerned glances exchanged among the men. But when they entered the great house, he saw that doubt turning to disgust, then to anger, for no decent man would condone what had taken place within the halls of Merdraco. Soon the men entered into the spirit of the purge. They made a giant bonfire, reminiscent of a Guy Fawkes celebration, only without an effigy to burn. But Dante, judging by the grumblings, thought the villagers had a likely candidate in mind. Everyone knew who had been behind the brutality.
Brushing the ash and cinders off his coat sleeve, Dante started to walk away. Then he paused to glance back at the men, laughing and joking while they stood around the bonfire watching the dancing flames. Dante had recognized William Brownwell and several others from the tavern in Merleigh, but what surprised him were the men he did not recognize, and whom he discovered came from Westlea Abbot. He stared thoughtfully at several of those men and reminded himself to thank Sir Jacob, for these were men who might very well be tenants of Sir Miles Sandbourne; yet they had come to Merdraco to work for him. He wondered if perhaps, over the years, Sir Miles’s genial mask had slipped askew and others had come to see the corruption that lay beneath. But with Sir Jacob, still a highly respected gentleman, standing by his side, Dante thought he could win against Miles.
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