She followed Walker into the house, aware of the ladies’ voices coming from behind the drawing room doors, probably enjoying exaggerated retellings of what had happened and agreeing that Farrah must be cracked in the attic.
Grateful that the doors were closed, she walked up the stairs. She resisted the urge to run in her desire to reach the privacy of her own chamber, and was glad of its isolated location that guaranteed her solitude. No one would risk offending the duchess by deliberately seeking her out. Well, no one other than Hazel, with whom she urgently needed to speak. If she had happened to see something, anything to support Farrah’s account, it would help enormously.
In the meantime, she needed to be alone in order to think about what had happened and try to come up with an explanation for it. She had no enemies, as far as she was aware, and there was absolutely no reason for anyone to wish her harm. She threw open her door and groaned when she caught a glimpse of her appearance in the long glass. Her bonnet was lost in the mud somewhere, her hair a hopeless tangle that fell to her waist. There were smudges of dirt on her face and a small cut on her chin. Another on her cheek. Her gown was ripped in several places and mud encrusted its hem. Her pelisse was a lost cause too.
Clothing didn’t matter, she thought, throwing off the offending pelisse and her tattered gloves and plonking herself down on the window seat. She leaned her elbow on the sill and supported her chin on her fist as she glumly stared at the view without actually seeing it. How the devil was she supposed to prove that an intruder was responsible for the attack upon Lady Melody, with Farrah herself as the intended target? Whatever Brin told the ladies would not be believed. Definitive proof of the intruder’s presence was required, and a trail of footprints that could easily be explained away as belonging to a keeper or poacher wouldn’t suffice.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Susan’s arrival. Farrah sent her a wary look. It was one thing for Walker to have shown support for her dilemma, but she couldn’t be sure that his opinion would be respected by the rest of the household’s servants. One look at the apparently genuine concern etched into Susan’s features was sufficient reassurance.
‘Oh, miss, I’m right glad to see you alive and relatively unharmed, indeed I am. A bath is being prepared and will be brought up as quick as you like. I don’t know what the world is coming to if a young lady is not safe on a ducal estate, indeed I don’t.’
‘You have obviously heard what happened.’
Susan sniffed. ‘A highly prejudiced account. Lady Melody’s maid insists that you tried to kill her. We all know that’s utter moonshine, of course. No one below stairs believes a word of it.’ Susan busied herself banking up the fire, then stopped talking while footmen lugged the hip-bath into the room and poured steaming jugs of water into it. Susan added some cold water and rose petals before testing the temperature and nodding her satisfaction. The footmen withdrew, having both sent Farrah smiles that she greatly appreciated. ‘Don’t you worry none about opinion below stairs, miss,’ Susan said briskly, motioning Farrah out of her gown and tutting at the state of it. ‘I shall have to see what I can do with this.’
‘Don’t bother yourself, Susan. I shall never wear it again. Keep it if you like.’
‘Are you sure, miss? That’s right kind of you,’ she said, when Farrah nodded. ‘Still, I suppose it will always bring back horrible memories if you wear it again. Anyway, where was I? Right, below stairs, no one has a good word to say for Lady Melody’s maid. She puts on airs and expects special treatment. Well, Mr Walker won’t put up with that. He told her quite severely not to spread rumours about your conduct. Not that the rest of us needed telling. No one will take the word of Lady Melody’s maid above that of the duke. We knew he was with you, supporting your cause before you got back to the house, and that was enough to satisfy us all.’
Farrah felt tears welling at this display of loyalty from a household that barely knew her. It wasn’t her they were supporting, of course, they were following the duke’s lead. Even so, servants could be the hardest critics in the world if they took against a person, and could make lives exceedingly uncomfortable for the subject of their dislike. Farrah sighed, wishing the ladies in the drawing room could be as easily convinced of her innocence.
She stepped out of her petticoats and slid gratefully into the warm water, dressed only in a thin shift. It felt wonderful to soak away the aches and pains that she had barely been conscious of before submerging herself. Farrah resigned herself to an array of bruises and stiff joints.
‘It’s probably too painful to talk about it,’ Susan said, her eyes agog as she sponged Farrah’s back. Clearly, she desperately wanted to take a first-hand account back to the servants’ hall and counter Lady Melody’s version of events. Farrah was tempted to enlighten her but was unsure if the duke would want her to create a panic by suggesting that an intruder with murderous intentions was at large in the grounds.
‘It all happened so fast. The duke is making enquiries,’ Farrah said, reasoning that Lady Melody had been stabbed and everyone was aware of the fact. ‘He found a large and highly unusual dagger, and is attempting to discover who owns it.’
‘Right.’ Susan seemed reassured by that snippet of information as she helped Farrah from the cooling water.
As soon as Farrah had dried off and slipped into a nightgown, she sat down so that Susan could brush out her hair; no easy task given its hopelessly tangled state. As soon as she had managed it, Farrah gave an expansive yawn. Taking the hint, Susan put her brush aside.
‘I’ll bring you up some tea and something light to eat, miss,’ she said. ‘Then I expect you’d like to rest and recover your strength.’
‘Thank you. I would.’
The promised tea was delivered. Even Farrah’s throat felt sore, and she appreciated the soothing effect of the warm liquid as it slipped down. She nibbled at a sandwich, ate a small pastry and then yawned, suddenly exhausted. She suspected that she would find it impossible to sleep, but slipped between the sheets and closed her eyes, determined to try.
The sound of someone tapping at her door roused her from a light doze that had been shot through with images of her assailant with his cold eyes and fancy dagger.
‘Come in.’
‘There you are, dearest.’ Hazel bustled over to the bed, looking worried and upset. ‘I hope I did not disturb you. I couldn’t get away earlier. Mama needed me. Please don’t think I was avoiding you.’
‘I’m sure your mother would infinitely prefer it if you did,’ Farrah said, sitting up and pushing escaped strands of hair away from her face.
‘No!’ Hazel blushed. ‘Well…yes, actually, but I stood my ground and since the duke has taken your part, she cannot argue. How do you feel?’
‘A little battered but otherwise unharmed.’ Farrah fixed Hazel with a steady look. ‘When you were in the cabin, did you see or hear what happened?’
‘No. I did not look out the window and I am perfectly sure that Daniel didn’t either.’
‘But you must have heard something.’
‘Only the screaming. I wanted to come to you because obviously I knew you were there, but Daniel wouldn’t let me. He urged me to think how it would look.’
‘He should have come himself,’ Farrah said, trying to keep the censure out of her voice.
‘He would have, you can be sure, but he didn’t know what was happening and said he was not willing to leave me alone.’
Farrah said nothing more, thinking privately that the very least he could have done was to open the door and see for himself. Hazel could have remained out of sight. But her friend seemed so conflicted, and had already defied her mother by visiting Farrah, which must have taken courage, so Farrah didn’t press the point. The episode had provided an unexpected insight into Mr Anglesey’s character, which did not flatter his gentlemanly instincts or lack thereof. But Farrah had enough of her own problems without adding to them by pointing out to Hazel what ought to be patently obvious to her.
>
‘What happened, dearest? I know you did not attack Lady Melody, despite the fact that she insists otherwise.’
‘How could I have? She was stabbed.’
Hazel’s worried expression cleared. ‘Of course, and you did not take a dagger with you. Why would you? And I would have seen it if you had, since you did not even take a reticule. I shall make sure everyone knows that.’
‘They won’t believe you,’ Farrah replied with a sardonic smile. ‘The duchess doesn’t like me. Nor does your mother. And I suppose I must now add Lady Kirkham’s name to my list of detractors, since naturally she will support her daughter’s account. They will use this incident to blacken my name, subtly of course, since the duke will not stand for unsubstantiated gossip.’
‘What happened, Farrah? You still have not said.’
‘That man, the one I saw before in the woods, he…’ She swallowed, reliving the horror in her mind, frozen with indecision. ‘He came from the treeline. I saw the dagger and pushed Lady Melody down. It was all I could think to do in the split second I had to act. She mistook my actions for aggression and fought against me. If she had not, she would probably not have been harmed.’
‘You saved her life.’ Hazel looked relieved. ‘I shall tell everyone and they will have to–’
‘No, Hazel, say nothing for now. The duke doesn’t want to cause widespread panic and would prefer to discover the man’s identity as well as his reasons for attacking strangers before he speaks out.’
Hazel gasped. ‘It could have been any one of us. The ogre must bear the duke a grudge and seeks to revenge himself by attacking his guests.’
‘Very likely,’ Farrah agreed, thinking it was as likely an explanation as any. ‘The duke picked up the dagger that the assailant used. It’s very distinctive, not something that a common criminal would carry, so it might help to identify him.’
‘That’s all to the good, but if I do not explain your innocence, all the ladies will cut you and you will be miserable.’
‘Don’t worry about me.’ Farrah patted Hazel’s hand. ‘I am accustomed to their spite and I know that at least I can depend upon your support.’
‘Yes, of course, but…’ Hazel hesitated.
‘What is it? You might as well tell me. Nothing can be worse than being suspected of violently attacking another female.’
‘Well, it’s just that Ellen…you know what a busybody my sister can be.’ Farrah nodded. She did know, all too well, and wondered what mischief the spiteful little minx had created this time. ‘She took great delight in telling all the ladies earlier that she saw you in the grounds with the duke not long after our arrival.’
‘Did she indeed? And I would imagine that everyone now supposes I have some sort of claim to his affections. He danced with Lady Melody last night—at my suggestion, I might add—but they don’t know that and probably think I took offence and decided to eliminate the competition.’
‘Something of that nature.’ Hazel couldn’t hold Farrah’s gaze. ‘It’s ridiculous, of course, but when someone wants to believe a person guilty of a particular crime, they will latch onto the flimsiest of evidence.’
‘Did anyone think to ask how I managed to tempt Lady Melody, with whom I had just had a public disagreement, to meet me in a secluded place? Did they ask why I was there myself, for that matter?’
‘Oh, Lady Melody has invoked general sympathy by saying that she saw you leave and followed you, hoping to resolve your differences.’
Farrah rolled her eyes. ‘Of course she did, leaving her looking even more the generously-inclined victim. She did follow me, but to apologise for what she said to me that caused me to retaliate. I don’t suppose she made that clear.’
‘No, she did not.’
Farrah sighed. ‘Well then.’
‘If anyone can withstand the temporary unpleasantness it is you, dearest. I have never known any lady who possesses greater strength of character.’
‘We shall see.’ Farrah summoned up a smile. ‘How was your meeting with Mr Anglesey?’ she asked, trying not to resent the fact that it was her desire to help her friend that had landed her in this mess. Or that the friend in question had repaid her by not insisting that her beau intercede.
‘We barely had time to exchange a dozen words before the ruckus interrupted us.’
‘That’s a pity but still, there will be other opportunities.’
‘I hope so.’ Hazel looked glum. ‘Mama will keep watch over me now, for fear of another attack.’
Farrah laughed. ‘She cannot have it both ways. Either I was responsible for Lady Melody’s injury, or a stranger inflicted it.’
‘Mama is not known for her rational thinking and believes only what it suits her to believe,’ Hazel replied, an edge to her voice. ‘Anyway,’ she added, glancing at the clock. ‘I had best get back. If I am gone for too long, Ellen will tattle on me.’
‘In other words, you have been told to keep away from me.’ Farrah sighed and made shooing motions with her hands. ‘Off with you. I don’t want you getting into trouble on my account.’
‘I shall come and call for you when it’s time to go down.’
‘Don’t put yourself at odds with your mother. I will go down alone.’
Hazel gasped. ‘Would you really dare?’
Farrah lifted one shoulder. ‘It’s something that I have to do.’
‘Gosh. Are you sure?’
Farrah wasn’t sure about anything, but gave Hazel the reassurance she required and felt relieved when she left the room. Relieved and disappointed, although what else she could have expected she was at a loss to know. Hazel cared only about Anglesey, but Farrah now harboured grave doubts about his suitability as a husband.
She pushed back the covers and delved into her armoire in search of a simple gown that she could don without a maid’s assistance. Her eye fell upon a burgundy muslin that would perfectly suit her needs. She eschewed her stays, pulled on petticoats and slipped into the gown, wincing when every bone in her body protested, no matter how carefully she moved. She had trouble getting sufficient air into her lungs, due no doubt to the pressure of Lady Melody’s body weight having rested on her torso. She was heavier than she looked. Farrah worried about her hair for a moment or two and then, sighing, she simply loosened the braid that Susan had fashioned it in, brushed it out and tied it back with a ribbon that matched her gown.
She then made her way downstairs, making no effort to move stealthily. She would have to face everyone sooner or later, and would not skulk about and give the impression of being guilty of anything other than a reluctant guest in this house. She reached the vestibule without seeing anyone at all. The doors to the drawing room were wide open and there was no one in it other than a footman stoking up the fires. The ladies would be resting, she assumed, before changing for dinner.
Farrah made her way to the duke’s library, determined to know what progress he had made in the search for the mystery man. Perfectly sure that he had already achieved something.
*
Brin delivered Farrah safely back to the house, admiring her courage and fortitude. Most females who had been attacked by knife-wielding lunatics would take to their beds for a week. But not Farrah Dorset. She appeared to require answers and was thirsting for revenge. Free now to give vent to his own feelings, he strode into his library with anger coursing through his veins.
‘What the devil is going on?’ he asked Shadow, who had stolen into the room at his heels, ears flat against his head, as though he sensed that something distasteful had occurred. He slumped down in front of the fire and curled into a tight ball.
Before Brin could ring for Harlow, his right-hand man appeared in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically grim.
‘You’ve heard?’ Brin asked, pouring two substantial measures of brandy and handing one to Harlow.
‘The whole household’s talking of nothing else. I took the liberty of assuring Walker that Miss Dorset enjoys your full support and is a vi
ctim herself rather than the perpetrator. I assume that must be the case, otherwise you wouldn’t have taken her under your wing.’ Harlow flexed a bushy brow. ‘Unless you have other uses for her.’
‘Thank you,’ Brin replied, not responding to the lurid part of Harlow’s declaration.
‘Well, stands to reason that you would feel that way,’ Harlow said, apparently keen to explain himself. ‘I mean, stabbing ain’t a lady’s work. Women, they go for poisoning inconvenient opposition, not wielding clumsy great knives.’
‘I would appreciate it if you could somehow curtail your enjoyment of the situation,’ Brin replied in a droll tone.
‘I can assure you that I take the matter as seriously as you do, guv’nor. It’s just me way of making light of things.’
Brin grunted a non-committal response.
‘How is the minx? Miss Dorset, I mean, not the other one. Ain’t nothing wrong with her above a scratch from what I hear, but to listen to her maid, you’d think she was at death’s door. Mind you, she’s a few farthings short of a shilling, the maid that is, and thinks herself above the company below stairs.’ Harlow chuckled. ‘Someone needs to bring her down a peg or two; preferably between the sheets. A decent tumble is all she needs.’
‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t do the tumbling. I already have one hysterical female above stairs. I can do without a repeat in the servant’s hall.’
Harlow huffed. ‘She wouldn’t be hysterical if I got my hands on her. Well, she might be, but for all the right reasons. Probably never had a real man.’
Brin shook his head. Talked out of his grim mood by Harlow’s indefatigable good humour, he went on to explain what had happened as related to him by Farrah. He paused mid-way through his recounting, distracted by thoughts of Farrah. Wanting to know how she was, if she had suffered any sort of delayed reaction, but aware that he couldn’t send a servant to ask without creating more speculation. The entire household was in a state of flux and he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. He would just have to exercise patience, but if she did not appear in his drawing room at the appropriate time then, damn it, he would go in search of her himself—the consequences be damned.
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