Legacy of the Diamond

by Andrea Kane

  "True. But perhaps I am well enough for a stroll."

  Aurora's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

  "Meaning I want to attempt the lighthouse today." Courtney leaned forward intently. "Aurora, I must determine whether Papa is alive. And if Mr. Scollard is as perceptive as you say…"

  "He is," Aurora confirmed. "I've told him all about you—just this morning, as a matter of fact. He's looking forward to meeting—and to helping—you."

  "Then let's go." Courtney shoved back the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Gingerly, she stood, clutching the bedpost until her lightheadedness subsided. "If you'll help me dress, we can avoid alerting Matilda to our plans." A tentative step, then another. "She'll hear about our excursion later, of course. But we needn't worry her in advance."

  So saying, Courtney crossed the room and tugged open the wardrobe, her motions tentative, unsteady.

  Aurora watched, indecision warring on her face. After a moment, she rose, walking over and offhandedly extracting clothing from the wardrobe. "Courtney, I'd like nothing better than to take you to the lighthouse," she stated, fingering one of the soft muslin gowns she'd loaned Courtney. "But are you sure you're ready for this? Mr. Scollard isn't going away. And you're still so weak. We could spend the day preparing for our chat with the investigator, then traipse to the lighthouse in two or three days, when you're stronger."

  Courtney's hands balled into fists. "Please don't mollify me like a child. You and I both know we can 'prepare,' as you put it, in less than an hour. As for waiting two or three days to visit Mr. Scollard…" Her voice choked. "I can't bear lying abed, hour after hour, accosted by fear and uncertainty. So, able or not, I must try. Today."

  Her desperation must have conveyed itself, because Aurora turned to her, brows raised, and nodded. "All right. Then try we shall. We'll leave the manor through the rear entrance. That way, neither Matilda nor any of the other servants will see us—except those appointed by my brother specifically to scrutinize my actions, of course. But most of those men are posted about the grounds, not in the manor. And they'll give us no trouble; they're quite used to my trips to the Windmouth Lighthouse."

  Courtney flashed a grateful smile. "Then it appears our goal is as good as attained."

  * * *

  An hour later, she felt otherwise.

  "I never imagined your estate was so vast," she managed, leaning weakly against an oak tree, one that was but a third of the way to their destination, and peering across the endless acres of greenery stretching before her. "We've been walking for an eternity." She brushed damp tendrils of hair off her forehead, her breathing rough and shallow.

  "Courtney, I think we should go back." Aurora abandoned all attempts at tact. "You're on the verge of collapse. Come, let me help you." She grasped Courtney's arm, adding lightly, "If you don't care for yourself, care for me. Slayde will have my head if I'm responsible for worsening your injuries."

  "You're not responsible—I am." Courtney took another half-hearted step. "As I said earlier, I'm not a child. I'm a grown—" Her knees gave out and, with a broken sound, she sank to the grass.

  "Courtney!" Thoroughly alarmed, Aurora squatted down beside her.

  "I'm conscious," Courtney murmured, pressing her face against the cool ground and wishing she could just go to sleep until the weakness and dizziness faded. "But I suspect … you're right. We … should return to … the manor."

  That did it.

  Aurora bolted to her feet. "Cutterton!" she called, waving earnestly toward a cluster of trees nestled in the eastern corner of the estate. "I need you."

  An instant of silence. Then, the rustle of trees as a stocky man of middle years emerged. With an incredulous stare, he made his way toward Aurora.

  "Hurry," she urged.

  "Lady Aurora," he began upon reaching her, his tone rife with disbelief, "how did you know to call me?"

  Aurora looked equally amazed. "Who else would I call?"

  "How in the name of heaven did you know I was behind those trees?" he demanded.

  She rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Cutterton. This entire section of the estate is your domain. Just as the western corner is Plinkert's. You have men stationed at healthy intervals between you, precisely as Slayde commanded."

  The poor man couldn't seem to recover. "All this time, you knew we were there?"

  "Of course. Now, please, I need your help. Miss Johnston is unable to walk on her own. We must carry her back to the manor."

  "Yes, certainly, my lady."

  Still muttering, Cutterton bent down and scooped Courtney effortlessly off the ground. "Forgive me, Miss Johnston, but I don't think your legs will hold you."

  A weak smile. "Thank you, Cutterton."

  She was only minimally aware of their return trip to the manor, until Siebert, the butler, summoned Matilda from her duties.

  "What were you thinking of?" the distressed maid asked as she tucked Courtney back into bed. "And you as well, Lady Aurora. Surely you didn't imagine Miss Courtney could traverse the entire estate, in her condition?"

  "Matilda, don't blame Aurora," Courtney murmured weakly. "She tried to discourage me. I refused to listen. The fault is mine, and mine alone." She smiled faintly. "But I shall be duly punished by having to endure the earl's bellowing later tonight. So, please, have pity on me."

  Matilda stifled a smile. "If you're trying to procure my silence, don't bother. Even if I agreed to say nothing to Lord Pembourne, Cutterton would make quick work of exposing our deception. He's doubtless poised and waiting for Lord Pembourne's return, prepared to enlighten him the instant the earl's phaeton passes through Pembourne's gates. So my soft heart cannot prevent the earl's furious tirade."

  "Nor should it." Miss Payne swept into the room, her uniform as crisp as her tone. "I'll take over from here, Matilda. Evidently, a firmer hand is needed to ensure that Miss Johnston makes a full and rapid recovery."

  A flicker of surprise crossed Matilda's face. "Very well."

  "Thank you for your concern, Miss Payne," Courtney inserted, unable to bear the embarrassment and hurt she saw in Matilda's eyes, "but, in truth, 'twould take an army to confine me for this length of time. Matilda has done a wonderful job; after all, according to Lord Pembourne, Dr. Gilbert believed me to be so badly depleted, he expected a week or more to pass before I was strong enough to stand on my own two feet. Instead, in half that time, my wounds are nearly healed, I'm out of bed for long periods of time, and I'm impatient to end my prolonged period of confinement." A smile. "Matilda's skillful ministrations and Cook's mastery in the kitchen are responsible for that miracle. Unfortunately, their abilities cannot extend to remedying my lack of common sense. So, please, don't condemn anyone for my own foolhardy actions."

  Miss Payne seemed to thaw a bit. "Matilda knows better than to think I was reprimanding her." A nod of approval in Matilda's direction. "She is every bit as fine a caretaker as you've just described. I only meant that perhaps she needed some assistance from someone with a slightly less tender heart."

  "Only if that someone also has a fleeter foot," Aurora put in cheerfully. "As you know, Miss Payne, I'm quite adept at escaping confinement, even when it's a foolish thing to do. Well, evidently my new companion is equally as adept. I fear the staff at Pembourne is going to have their hands full."

  "Companion?" Miss Payne inclined her head.

  "Yes. Slayde has asked Courtney to stay on." Aurora's lips twitched. "To help keep me in line."

  "Lord help us." Matilda rolled her eyes.

  "I see." Miss Payne busied herself with the curtains, half closing them to limit the afternoon sunlight as it spilled into the bedchamber. "Matilda, why don't you fetch Miss Johnston a tray? She should eat something before she naps."

  "Of course." With a grateful smile in Courtney's direction, Matilda hastened from the room.

  "Siebert tells me you were on your way to the lighthouse," Miss Payne remarked conversationally, checking the pitcher to ensure it ha
d fresh water. "Why?"

  "To visit Mr. Scollard; why else?" Aurora answered. "I wanted Courtney to meet him."

  "So badly that you risked her health?"

  "As I said, that was my fault," Courtney repeated. "I'd hoped Mr. Scollard could supply me with some insight—insight that would grant me a measure of peace. I begged Aurora to take me. She had little choice, other than tying me to the bed."

  "Well, try to remember that your body is not always able to do what you command it to."

  "I will."

  Miss Payne smoothed her uniform. "I'll go assist Matilda. But I'll be back," she added pointedly, "to ensure you're still abed."

  The moment the housekeeper's footsteps disappeared down the hall, Aurora dissolved into laughter. "Poor Miss Payne. She takes her job so seriously. She's worked for my family for over two decades. Papa hired her before I was born. I don't think she's ever adjusted to my unpredictable behavior, try as she might."

  "Then I doubt she'll fare well with mine." Courtney gave a faint smile, which quickly faded. "I'm sorry if my stupidity yields unpleasant consequences for you. 'Twas never my intention to get you in trouble."

  Aurora shrugged. "I'm always in trouble. I've learned to ignore it. And now that you're here, I have someone to ignore it with."

  "None of this is going to make Slayde very happy," Courtney murmured, half to herself. "He was reluctant to take me to London because of my weakened state. I think he was quite relieved when the trip became unnecessary. And this morning, he virtually ordered me to remain at Pembourne until he returned with the investigator tonight—which I led him to believe I would."

  Aurora's eyes had widened. "You convinced Slayde to take you to London? When?"

  "We were to leave this morning in the hopes of finding Armon. But Bow Street

  's visit—"

  "I didn't mean when were you leaving," Aurora interrupted. "I meant when did you convince him to take you?"

  Warning bells. "Yesterday. When he returned from Morland."

  "Amazing." Aurora shook her head. "In twenty years, I've never 'convinced' my brother to do anything." A pause. "Other than to persuade you to stay."

  A faint blush crept up Courtney's neck. "Aurora…"

  "Please don't apologize. I think it's quite extraordinary. I can scarcely wait to see where it leads."

  "Where it leads?" Courtney's throat grew so tight she could scarcely speak. "Aurora, you're making far too much of this. Your brother is a fine man. That, combined with his own tragic experience, has rendered him very compassionate, with regard to me and my loss. He's trying to help me. And, yes, on some level, we understand each other." Seeing the skeptical lift of Aurora's brows, she added, "Very well, we're drawn to each other. But that's the full extent of it. There's nothing more."

  "Yet," Aurora qualified.

  "What makes you think there will be?"

  "The way your eyes light up when you speak Slayde's name. The fact that he's shared confidences with you he's firmly vowed never, ever to discuss—with me or anyone." Aurora gripped the bedpost, meeting Courtney's gaze with her own candid one. "Courtney, I don't profess to knowing my brother well. He spends more time abroad than he does at Pembourne. But I'm smart enough to understand the reason for that. He's running away from something. 'Tis only a matter of time before he realizes that something is himself and therefore cannot be escaped. If you're the one destined to help him perceive that, to give him a reason to stay, I'm elated."

  Swallowing, Courtney lowered her head, staring intently at the bedcovers. "Do you believe that's possible?"

  "Do you care for him?" Aurora countered.

  "Yes." It was a breath of a whisper. "I know it's been less than a week. But when we're together, I feel… Yes."

  "Then you have your answer."

  "Not quite," Courtney reminded her with a rueful smile. "I think it's necessary for Slayde to return my feelings in order for your assumptions to become fact. And, given how strong his desire for autonomy is, I'm afraid I have a formidable task ahead of me."

  "I agree. You're fighting a lifetime of solitude, plus Lord knows what else. But from what I've seen, you're an exceedingly good fighter."

  Courtney's smile widened. "I am indeed. I'm also a dreadful loser."

  "Then don't lose," Aurora replied with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes.

  "I'll do my best."

  "And you'll succeed. Because, in addition to your feelings and your determination, you'll have a wealth of opportunity. Provided by the best cohort of all—me."

  Courtney leaned forward and squeezed Aurora's hand.

  "Despite the tragedy that brought me to Pembourne, I'm very glad we met."

  "As am I."

  Aurora fell silent as Miss Payne sailed back into the room, a steaming tray in her hands. "I shooed Matilda off for some rest," she announced, setting the tray on the nightstand. "Cook prepared two portions of everything, so you two young ladies can chat while you eat." Straightening, she cast a warning glance at them both. "But once your meal is complete, Miss Johnston must rest. Is that clear?"

  "Perfectly," Aurora replied. "Thank you, Miss Payne."

  "You're quite welcome." The housekeeper turned to Courtney. "Eat everything on your plate. You're thin as a reed. Good food will speed your recovery."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Brushing a few imaginary specks of dust from the furniture, Miss Payne took her leave.

  "I'll serve us." Aurora rose, fetching the two plates of food and handing one to Courtney. "Every morsel now," she teased, dropping back into the chair. Spearing a piece of mutton, she paused, giving Courtney a quizzical look. "Does Slayde truly believe someone learned of my trip to London by pure chance and seized that opportunity to extort the black diamond?"

  Courtney stopped chewing. "No."

  "I thought not," Aurora replied, resuming her meal. "He believes the Duke of Morland is responsible."

  "Yes, he does. In Slayde's opinion, the duke was aware of your restlessness, having had Pembourne watched long enough to determine your behavior, and was therefore awaiting just such an opportunity as the one you gave him when you dashed off to London. At which point, he acted." Courtney regarded her plate. "To me, the theory sounds a bit farfetched. On the other hand, I do agree that the duke is the most logical suspect. He loathes your family and has coveted the black diamond for years. Not to mention the fact that he was away from his estate at the time Armon was murdered."

  "And sober when he returned," Aurora added, recalling the details Courtney had relayed earlier. "Maybe the idea isn't quite as extreme as it sounds. Especially given the irrational intensity of the hatred the Bencrofts have sustained for us for generations. Oh, 'tis true I never gave as much credence to Lawrence Bencroft's potential for retaliating as Slayde did—not so long as he was drunk and in seclusion. But now that all that's changed, Slayde's suspicions are more than justified."

  Courtney cleared her throat. "Aurora, do you believe the Bencrofts were involved in your parents' murder?"

  A flash of grief. "Honestly? I don't know."

  "Forgive me," Courtney inserted at once, distressed that she'd caused Aurora pain. "I didn't mean to upset you with my question. 'Tis not my intention to hurt you. Forget I asked."

  "No. Truly, it doesn't hurt to talk about it. Lord knows I rehashed it for Bow Street

  , and then countless times with Slayde. 'Tis only that I spent months, years, racking my brain for some detail I might have forgotten, something that could have identified their killer. The problem is, I was scarcely ten years old when it happened and was therefore sound asleep in my room, which, as you know, is one landing and half a house away from where the murder took place. I heard no commotion. The question is, was that because none occurred—that Mama and Papa knew their killer and willingly admitted him? Or is it because the murderer caught them by surprise and committed his crime so swiftly and silently that he didn't disturb the rest of the house? I simply don't know. But I can tell you this: I do
believe that Chilton Bencroft was capable of murder."

  "You remember him?"

  A shiver. "I saw him but once, on that horrible day he exploded into Pembourne. 'Twas enough. Chilton Bencroft was not a man to forget. Especially if one was a child. He's the sort that leaves a lasting, terrifying image in a young mind. His eyes burned with a rage that bordered on insanity. His voice could smother the sound of thunder, and the threats he hurled at Papa were heard throughout the entire first floor of the manor—by me and the servants. And, of course, Slayde, who physically threw him out."

  "What about Lawrence? Do you remember him?"

  "Vaguely." Aurora frowned. "I remember only a tall, black-haired man with a drink in his hand. Chilton was so overpowering, I hardly noticed his son. Was Lawrence capable of murder? I simply don't know."