by CJ Archer
***
It's always the quiet ones who prove the most dangerous. So Orlando often found. The flamboyant and loud may boast of their deeds, but they rarely turned out to be as terrible as they claimed. The average and unassuming were different. They didn't boast and they appeared pleasant enough on the outside, helpful even, yet they could do the cruelest things. Walter Cowdrey was one of those types. He was a good man, so Susanna had said. But Orlando disagreed. Cowdrey was definitely a liar, and perhaps a killer. It was time to find out for sure.
He rode Silver to Cowdrey Farm. His dry clothes didn't stay dry for long thanks to the light sprinkling of rain. He'd suffered no ill effects from the previous night's banishment, not even a sneeze, although the nagging doubt that Susanna may not let him back in upon his return remained with him the entire journey.
Cowdrey Farm was a sturdy rectangular stone house with little in the way of garden out the front. There was no lawn, border hedges, or raised beds. Indeed, the only plants were a few clumps of hawthorn that held no pattern whatsoever and a scraggly patch of flowers under one of the ground floor windows. The house itself appeared to be surrounded by more mud than gravel and Orlando's boots were thick with it by the time he walked around to the stables.
He handed Silver's reins to a groom and asked after the master. The lad directed him to the milk house past the barn in the nearby field. Orlando thanked him and glanced up at the main house. Margaret Cowdrey's stern face peered down at him from a first floor window. He tipped his hat, but she gave no response in return.
It was some distance to the milk house and took him several minutes of clomping through mud to reach it. Inside, he spotted Cowdrey standing over one of the milkmaids, giving her instruction. She looked to be no more than thirteen and uncertain of her task.
He scowled when he saw Orlando. "What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you about the list of London merchants you gave Susanna. Among other things."
Cowdrey flinched. For a moment Orlando thought he'd have to say his piece in front of the milkmaids, but then Cowdrey led him outside. It had stopped raining, but the gray clouds hung low and expectant. He wanted to get home to Stoneleigh before they dropped their load.
"Speak," Cowdrey said.
"I've lived in London almost my entire life," Orlando said. "I worked for my brother, a merchant who imports goods from the Continent and other foreign parts."
"So?"
"Most of the things my brother imports are spices and foodstuffs that aren't available here in England, and most of his customers are grocers in London. I don't recognize a single shopkeeper on the list you gave Susanna."
Cowdrey removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "There must be a lot of merchants in London. You cannot know them all."
"Actually, my brother's business interests are extensive. When I worked for him, I talked to almost every London merchant at one point or other, and those I didn't speak to, I knew by name."
Another flinch from Cowdrey. The man grew twitchy. "So you're not a gardener. I'm sure Susanna would like to know."
"She already does."
"She ought to throw you out."
"She did."
Cowdrey pressed his lips together. "Then you are wasting my time." He began to walk off but Orlando grabbed his arm, spun him around. "Release me, Holt. You're a liar and a cur. If Susanna wants nothing to do with you then neither do I."
"You didn't let me finish. Susanna threw me out, but then she allowed me back into the house. That's when she showed me the list of names you gave her and I told her they're false. She knows you're lying, Cowdrey. She also knows why."
Cowdrey jerked his arm out of Orlando's grip. If the man ran, so be it. Orlando would simply have to chase him. The exercise might warm him up.
"What lies have you been telling her?" Cowdrey snapped.
"I haven't lied. Not about this."
"Ha! You admit you are a liar, and yet she believes you now?" He poked Orlando in the shoulder. It was annoying. "What would she say if she knew you," poke, "were the one who lied about the shopkeepers?" Poke.
Orlando grabbed the finger. Twisted. Cowdrey winced but didn't cry out despite the pain he must be feeling. Orlando let go. "Keep your fingers to yourself unless you want them snapped off. I promised Susanna I wouldn't kill you. I don't like breaking promises, but I could make an exception in your case."
Sweat dampened Cowdrey's brow. He shook out his hand then put it behind his back. "What do you want?"
"Two things. First, I want you to stop pestering Susanna with offers of marriage."
"Bah! Be gone! Get off my land. You cannot come here and order me about. You're an arse. Susanna has been fooled by your manner and your pretty looks—"
"Leave my looks out of this. I'm rather sensitive about them, if you must know."
"I'll set her straight. She'll listen to me because I've known her all her life and she knows I wish her no harm."
"No harm? You deceived her in order to ruin her."
"I gave her those false names out of kindness."
"Kindness? You think it kind to force her into poverty?"
"You think it kind to let her believe she can fix Stoneleigh on her own? The task is enormous even for someone who knows what they're doing. She has no money, no skill at building, no one to do the labor."
"Hence the need to sell the products made from her orange trees so she can employ someone."
"You think that will bring in enough?" He snorted. "And you call yourself a merchant."
"My brother is the merchant, not me. I care little for money."
"Then you are as foolish as Susanna. Selling her marmalades and other orange stuffs will get her a few pounds, no more. Stoneleigh will fall into ruin soon, and she will starve if she continues with her stubborn refusal to remarry. I am her savior. Me." Spittle bubbled at the corners of his mouth. He spoke fast, his words falling over each other in his haste. "There is no one richer in this parish. None among her acquaintance have more land than me. None. Letting her think she can live off the meager income from a few jars of marmalade is worse than the small lie I told because it gives her false hope."
"It is still hope. And I said I care little for money, not that I don't know the value of it. The sale of this crop will help her buy more trees and protect the ones she has."
"She will be happier if she forgets it all. Happier with me. She won't need to work herself to the bone or worry about money. I'll take care of her. The sooner she comes to realize her plan is hopeless, the better off she will be." Cowdrey's chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. He'd shown more passion, more character in his speech than he'd shown in every conversation Orlando had witnessed. Yet the man was still a prick.
Orlando's heart raced, his anger welled inside him until he couldn't contain it any longer. "I don't know if she can do it on her own," he said, "but God's blood I want her to succeed, now more than ever. And if you loved her as you claim, you'd want her to succeed too. With you or without."
Love. Bloody hell, not again.
Orlando pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. He was tired and there were too many thoughts racing through his head. It was impossible to make sense of them all.
"I am merely protecting her," Cowdrey said.
Orlando stared at him. The man honestly believed what he was saying. "Then where were you when someone tried to kill her?"
Cowdrey's head jerked up as if Orlando had hit him. "What do you mean?"
"There have been incidents. The latest one occurred yesterday on the drive home from church. Someone threw a knife at her." It was one thing to break his vow and tell Susanna about his work for Hughe, it was entirely another to tell this man. If Cowdrey was innocent, he didn't need to know, and if he was guilty, he'd probably already guessed that Orlando was the assassin he'd hired.
"A knife?" Cowdrey's face turned white. He staggered backward. If it was an act, it was a good one. "Who...?"
He stared slack-jawed at Orlando. "Who would do such a thing to her? She's never hurt anyone."
Orlando crossed his arms. Waited.
Cowdrey's eyes widened. "You think I did it? You filthy swine! Is that what you told her?" He clasped Orlando's cloak and tried to drag him closer. He was strong, but not strong enough. "Now she thinks it's me! I wouldn't harm a hair on her head. Susanna is a...a thing to treasure. Like a...a precious jewel. A pearl!" His fingers twisted in Orlando's cloak and he shook him. "I would not harm her. I only ever wanted to protect her from the world's ills, as any gentleman would after setting eyes upon her. A woman as beautiful as Susanna is rare and..."
"Precious? A pearl?"
Cowdrey punched Orlando in the shoulder but did not let go of his cloak. "Do not mock me."
"Are you finished?" Orlando asked, curling his fists at his sides.
"Go back to Stoneleigh and tell her it's not me." Cowdrey's eyes had a wildness in them and his voice rose to a high pitch. "Understand? Make sure she knows I am not the one trying to harm her."
"There now, that's the problem I have with you. Or one of them."
"What?"
"If you loved her, your first thought shouldn't be to make your innocence known to her, it should be to find out who is trying to kill her before he does it again."
Cowdrey's face screwed up, distorting his features. "What do you know of love? You're no better than a vagabond."
"Vagabonds can have feelings too."
"You dare to jest at a time like this." Cowdrey snarled and shoved at Orlando's chest.
Orlando stepped one foot back for balance. "Unhand me."
Another shove, but Orlando was braced for it and didn't move. Cowdrey bared his crooked teeth. Orlando sighed. He was going to have to remove him the hard way. Since Cowdrey was too close to get a punch in, Orlando slammed the hardest part of his forehead down on the bridge of the other man's nose.
Cowdrey let go with a squeal of pain and covered his smashed face. Blood dripped through his fingers.
"You're fortunate," Orlando said.
Cowdrey merely glared at him.
"You're fortunate because I don't think you're the one trying to kill Susanna. If I did, you'd be bleeding from more places than your nose."
"You're a madman!" Cowdrey shouted. "I know you want her for yourself, but you can't have her. She's mine!" He lunged but Orlando stepped aside and Cowdrey stumbled forward, almost falling into the mud.
"She's no one's," Orlando said. "The sooner you realize that, the happier you'll be."
"Get out! Get off my land, you pizzle!"
The milkmaids had come to the door of the milk house, their aprons pressed to their mouths, their eyes wide with horror. None came to Cowdrey's aid. Orlando tipped his hat at them then turned and walked away across the field back to the house. He listened for footsteps approaching but none came. Cowdrey remained behind.
He collected Silver from the groom who was none the wiser to his master's agony and looked up at the window where he'd seen Margaret earlier. She was gone. He walked Silver a little way then mounted and glanced back at the house once more. Cowdrey Farm was a bleak place. Susanna would hate living in the austere, blocky house with no garden to speak of except for the bedraggled little patch of marigolds.
Marigolds. The same flowers that were on Phillip's grave.
Bloody hell! Susanna hadn't put them there, it was Margaret. Had she been in love with Phillip? Is that why she hated Susanna so much? Surely not enough to kill her almost a year after his death.
Orlando steered Silver back to the stables. "Tell me," he said to the groom, "did your master and mistress ride to church yesterday or drive?"
The boy shrugged. "She drove the cart, 'e rode."
Damn. Orlando had seen someone leave the woods on a horse after the attack, not a cart.
"She rode 'ome," the lad added.
Orlando's heart stopped. "On her own?"
"Aye. The master come 'ome in the cart and she rode Gilly. She's a good 'orsewoman. Rode out just now on Gilly, in fact."
"Which way did she go?"
"To the village."
Stoneleigh was on the way to Sutton Grange. Orlando spurred Silver on, but the mare was old and slow and Margaret Cowdrey had a good lead. He hoped to God Susanna didn't let her in the house.