by Joyce Alec
“I do wonder if the gentlemen are having a successful afternoon,” Miss Longleat continued with a sigh. “These ladies are certainly suitable company, but I would much prefer to have conversation with eligible gentlemen.” She looked at Susanna. “Would you not agree?”
“Yes,” Susanna murmured absentmindedly. “Yes, yes, of course.”
“Oh!”
Miss Longleat stopped suddenly, forcing Susanna to pay attention. “Look, there are some gentlemen returned!” she exclaimed, pulling her arm from Susanna’s and clasping her hands together in a delighted fashion. “I did not think we had been out of doors for long, but hours must have passed, if they are returned. I—”
“Look.” Susanna pointed at the three gentlemen, her stomach dropping to her toes as she saw Lord Knightsbridge being supported by another gentleman. “Something has happened to Lord Knightsbridge.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as the other ladies began to exclaim, clearly becoming aware of the unfolding scene. Miss Longleat caught her breath, one hand pressed to her mouth as she looked out toward the advancing gentlemen, seeing the red stain that had spread across part of Lord Knightsbridge’s shirt.
Susanna’s heart began to pound furiously as the gentlemen continued toward them. What had happened to Lord Knightsbridge? She knew that the gentlemen had been out hunting, shooting, and fishing but they were all experienced in doing so and certainly would not have made any sort of foolish mistake. So just how had Lord Knightsbridge become injured?
“Pray, do not be overly concerned,” Lord Knightsbridge said as they approached, a smile on his otherwise tight expression. “I have injured myself a little, that is all.”
The ladies flocked toward him as one, with Miss Longleat catching Susanna’s hand and pulling her toward him. Susanna found herself stumbling, as though she were a little afraid of drawing closer to him, terrified of what she would see and fearing that the guilt that she was certain would overtake her would then be too much to bear.
This is not your doing, she told herself firmly as Miss Longleat continued to pull her closer. You did not shoot him. You have done everything that you have been asked to do.
“I am quite all right, truly,” Lord Knightsbridge said as Mr. Easthill, who was still supporting him, grimaced. “Just a small wound to the shoulder.”
“But what happened, Benedict?” his mother asked with a concerned tightness in her tone, stepping closer and pressing one hand to her throat as she saw the blood-stained shirt. “Goodness…” Her voice drifted away, becoming nothing more than a faint whisper. “Have you been shot?”
Lord Knightsbridge reached out with his free hand and took his mother’s hand. “I am quite all right, Mother,” he told her gently, not answering her question. “It was nothing more than an accident. A foolishness on my part, in fact.” Pressing her hand, he smiled at her again. “Now, I am to go to my chambers and make myself presentable. I will see you again very soon.”
Susanna let out a shuddering breath, seeing the pain in Lord Knightsbridge’s eyes that he was unable to hide. Lord Knightsbridge turned his head and caught her gaze, holding it for a long moment before Mr. Easthill and Lord Perham insisted that he continue to walk with them. She felt as though he had been looking deeply into her soul, into her very heart, and knew that there was something she was keeping from him.
“Whoever shot him must feel very ill indeed,” Miss Longleat murmured as Lady Knightsbridge turned toward her son but did not follow him. “I wonder who it could have been.
“I cannot imagine,” Susanna replied, her heart still beating at a furious pace. “But you are quite correct. They will be overcome with regret and fright, I am sure of it.”
Miss Longleat sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes I have wished myself to be a gentleman, so that I might have the freedoms that they have,” she said honestly. “But now I feel rather glad that I am not, given what has just occurred.”
“That is understandable,” Susanna answered rather faintly. “I do wonder what has happened.”
“I am sure we will find out very soon,” Miss Longleat replied as the other ladies all continued to speak together, their conversations growing louder and louder as they continued to stare after Lord Knightsbridge. Susanna’s chest grew tighter as she looked after him. Was the shooting really an accident? Lord Knightsbridge had stated that it was but there was something within her that said it was not. Was it related to the notes she had sent him? Had he refused to do what was asked of him and now was receiving the punishment for it?
“I think we must continue our walk,” Lady Pendleton said, coming toward Susanna with a sharp look in her eye. “Come, Susanna. Goodness, you look rather pale!”
“Why would I not be?” Susanna asked as she fell into step beside her aunt. “Lord Knightsbridge has just been injured and appeared before us with a blood-stained shirt!”
“That was something of a shock, I confess,” Lady Pendleton remarked, linking arms with Susanna. “His mother looks quite done in but she is being accompanied by many others so I am certain that she will recover herself soon.”
Susanna said nothing. Her thoughts were still solely centered on Lord Knightsbridge. She did not think that she would be able to concentrate on anything else until she had seen that he was truly all right.
Sitting with the other ladies was not something Susanna felt particularly like doing. They were all still speculating on the nature of Lord Knightsbridge’s injury and Susanna could not bear to endure their conversations any longer. Thus, she slipped out of the drawing room and walked along the corridor, wondering if she ought to retire to her room for a short time or if she should find somewhere else quiet to sit. The door to the library was a little ajar and she found herself wandering inside, drawn to the silence and the peace that she knew would be found within.
“Miss Millerton.”
Starting violently, Susanna looked to her left to see none other than Lord Knightsbridge sitting in a chair, smiling at her. A glass of brandy was sitting on a small table to his left and he had a book resting on his lap. For a moment, she was too shocked to speak, having expected him to be now resting in his bedchamber, or to be under the care of the doctor.
“Please.” Lord Knightsbridge gestured to a chair opposite him, a smile on his face. “I will not disturb you.”
Susanna shook her head, knowing full well that she ought not to be anywhere near Lord Knightsbridge without a companion. “I should not,” she said, aware of the tenseness curling up within her. “Excuse me, Lord Knightsbridge. I should not have interrupted you.”
“You did not know I was here,” he said as she turned away. “You might leave the door open, if you wish. If that would make you more comfortable?”
Susanna closed her eyes tightly, swaying just a little as she stood by the door.
“You may depart if you wish it,” Lord Knightsbridge said, his voice a little lower than before. “I apologize. I should not press you to remain.”
Opening her eyes, Susanna put on a smile and turned around. “I should have asked you how you fare at present, Lord Knightsbridge,” she said, realizing that, in her embarrassment, she had forgotten to even consider his injury. “Your shoulder?”
Lord Knightsbridge smiled and had she not already known that he was injured, she would not have guessed it. “I am quite all right, Miss Millerton,” he told her. “A quick stitch and a strip of bandage and I am just as usual.”
Susanna’s eyes flared. “The doctor has—”
“He was sent for immediately and has already seen to my shoulder,” he said easily, as though having a wound stitched meant very little. “I can assure you that I am quite all right and will make a full recovery.”
Even though she knew she ought not to remain alone in the room with him, Susanna could not help but move closer, searching his expression for any sign of pain. There appeared to be none there.
“Might I ask what happened?” she said, unable to keep her curiosity at bay. “How were you injured?”
Lord Knightsbridge’s easy expression faded in the blink of an eye. His brows dropped low over his eyes and he shook his head, his gaze drifting away from her.
“I do not know precisely,” he said, his voice grating. “The gentlemen were all behind me, but only a few short steps.” Lifting his hand, he rubbed his chin and bit his lip. “Then came a searing pain in my shoulder and…”
“So, one of the guests was at fault?” Susanna asked, sinking into a chair as she saw some color fade from Lord Knightsbridge’s cheeks. “They must be brought to account!”
Lord Knightsbridge dropped his hand and shook his head, his piercing emerald eyes now fixed to hers. “I do not think they could be,” he said slowly. “The shot, I think, came from farther away than any of the gentlemen were standing. Besides which, when I turned to look, they were all much too far from my side to have been able to achieve such a shot.”
“Do you think it was a deliberate act?” Susanna asked before she could stop herself. “Do you believe that someone has tried to injure you on purpose?”
Tilting his head, Lord Knightsbridge looked at her steadily. “That is an interesting conclusion, Miss Millerton,” he said slowly, “and, I will confess, something that I have considered.” Rising to his feet, Susanna did not miss the flash of pain that crossed his face as he pushed himself up. “In fact, Miss Millerton, there has been something I have wanted to ask you.”
Immediately, warnings began to press into Susanna’s mind. Her heart quickened, her palms becoming sweaty as she pressed her hands together in her lap. “Yes?”
“It is about the man that spoke to you in the gardens,” Lord Knightsbridge began, looking at her for a long moment before he started to pace up and down. “I have come to believe, Miss Millerton, that you are not being entirely truthful with me.”
Susanna’s chest tightened all the more and she struggled to keep her composure. She did not know what to say or whether she ought to remain silent or make some sort of innocent remark that would satisfy Lord Knightsbridge’s curiosity.
You cannot tell him the truth, she told herself, remembering the fear that had climbed into her heart in the gardens only yesterday, when the man had confronted her. No matter what, you cannot tell him the truth.
“The man spoke to you about something, did he not?” Lord Knightsbridge said, his voice grave. “He did not merely stop to ask if you were well.”
“No,” Susanna answered, her voice husky. “No, he did not.” She did not know what else to say, could not think of some excuse to give him about what the man had said. Her mind filled with questions. How did he know the truth? How much was he aware of? And just what would he think of her?
Lord Knightsbridge nodded, still pacing slowly. “I see,” he said slowly. “You are afraid, are you not?”
To her horror, a single tear fell from Susanna’s eyes and ran down her cheek. She brushed it away hastily, not wanting him to see her in such a state of agitation.
“You were,” Lord Knightsbridge said heavily, sitting down again in his chair and looking at her, his hands resting gently on his knees. “And you are still afraid, I presume? That is why you will not tell me the truth?”
The questions in his eyes and the gentle pressing of his words intensified Susanna’s guilt, making it flow up within her. Her throat burned with heat, her mouth filled with sand, and she could not even make a single sound.
“I want you to tell me what he said to you, Miss Millerton,” Lord Knightsbridge said gently. “I shall not be angry, I swear it. I must know what he said so that I can understand my current situation.” He held up both hands, palms flat out toward her. “You need have no fear, Miss Millerton. Whatever he said, no harm will come to you.”
“You cannot be sure of that.”
Her voice was rasping, her hands tight on the arms of the chair. The words had slipped out from her mouth before she had any opportunity to stop herself.
Immediately, Lord Knightsbridge rose from his chair, came toward her, and knelt down. His hands reached for hers, pulling them firmly from the arms of the chair and holding them tightly in his hands. His eyes searched hers, his face filled with concern.
“You need not have any fear,” he told her, his words firm and filled with determination. “I already know that you have been threatened. Whatever it is that was said to you, I can make certain that you are not in any danger.”
Susanna felt hot tears fill her eyes, looking down at the man before her and seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He wanted so much to help her but there was very little that she could do in order to help him. If she told him the truth, he would truly despise her. He would not wish to protect her; he would want her gone from his house and from his life for good.
“I cannot,” she said hoarsely, pressing his hands. “Please, Lord Knightsbridge, I cannot.”
“Why?” he pressed, looking at her with such a desperation in his eyes that Susanna wanted to weep. “Do you not trust me?”
Closing her eyes, Susanna felt tears stain her cheeks, her throat aching as she did so. “Lord Knightsbridge, you will despise me for the rest of my days,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed. “You will spurn me. I shall be sent from your house and—”
“No, Miss Millerton!” Lord Knightsbridge exclaimed, letting go of one of her hands only for his fingers to brush her cheek. Shocked by his touch, her eyes flew open and she found herself looking directly into his face.
“I swear to you, you shall remain here and I shall not hold anything against you,” he promised, speaking with such purpose that everything in Susanna wanted to believe him. “If you have been threatened, then whatever it is that you are remaining silent about is being forced upon you, is it not?”
Nodding, Susanna reached up one hand to brush away her tears, realizing that she was becoming almost desperate to tell him the truth but that there was still a strong resolve not to do so.
“You have not had any other choice but to remain silent,” Lord Knightsbridge continued, “but I pray that you speak now. No consequences will come to you, I swear it.”
Letting out a long, shuddering breath, Susanna closed her eyes tightly. The moment was before her. What was she going to say? Could she tell him the truth? Could she trust him enough to know what was troubling her?
“Please, Miss Millerton,” Lord Knightsbridge urged gently. “The truth.”
Opening her eyes, Susannah let out another long sigh. “I have been told to remain silent and to speak of none of this with you, Lord Knightsbridge,” she said slowly, feeling panic grip her heart as she began to tell him the truth. The truth that he was so desperate to know but would certainly hold against her. “My aunt. My father, they—”
“What did you see?” Lord Knightsbridge asked, his eyes fixed to hers as she looked back at him. “What is it they have against you?”
A little confused by his question, Susanna shook her head. “I saw nothing,” she answered, knowing now that since she had begun to speak, she had no other choice but to finish. “But yes, I am being threatened. I have been told to do as they ask without question, else my father’s life, my aunt’s life, and even my own life might be brought to a swift end.” Tears began to pour from her eyes and she leaned forward, covering her face with her hands, sobbing as the pain and guilt racked her frame.
“My dear Miss Millerton,” Lord Knightsbridge whispered, placing one hand on her shoulder for a moment. “Please, what is it? You must tell me.”
“The notes,” Susanna said brokenly, her words jerked through her sobs. “I have been forced to write your notes, Lord Knightsbridge.” Sniffing, she wiped her eyes and looked up at him, seeing how the color had begun to drain from his face. “I was spoken to in the gardens and reminded not to speak to you of my own part in your distress. And I have been too afraid to do so, fearing what would happen if I did.”
Lord Knightsbridge did not say anything for some moments. Then, he pulled his hand from hers and rose to his feet. Susanna closed her e
yes tightly, knowing now that he would step away from her for good, that the beginnings of their friendship would now come to naught.
“My goodness,” Lord Knightsbridge breathed as she opened her eyes, daring to look at him. “So, you are the one who has been sending me those cruel, distressing notes that force me to do as is stated for fear of the consequences that will be brought if I do not?”
Susanna nodded miserably, not trusting herself to speak.
“But—but why?”
Still trembling with the realization that she had not only told Lord Knightsbridge the truth but that the consequences of her doing so would now begin to pour over her head, Susanna tried to find the words to explain.
“It is as I have said,” she whispered, dropping her head low. “I ignored it at the first, only to discover my mare had been badly injured. No one could tell me how it occurred. Since then, I have known that the very same will happen to those that I love, should I not do so.” Her throat ached and she kept her tears back with an effort but did not look up at him. “I did not have a choice.”
For a long time, nothing was said. Susanna felt quite certain that, at any moment, Lord Knightsbridge would turn on his heel and leave the room. He would, of course, reject her entirely. Whether or not she had been given any choice in what she had done, she had still been a part of this dreadful situation. Even now, as a guest in his house, she had written a note and left it for him without having the strength of character to go and speak to him about what she was involved in.
A heavy breath came rattling from Lord Knightsbridge’s chest and Susanna closed her eyes tightly. Any moment now, the judgment would fall and she would find herself thrown from his presence and his house.