Behind the Mask (House of Lords) (41 page)

When Toby had led the mare into her stall, he turned to Eleanor. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“I came to thank you for what you did last night,” Eleanor said. “You saved that man’s life.”

“Much as I respect him, I don’t believe that it was of him that I thought,” Toby replied, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

Feeling suddenly nervous, Eleanor wondered if this had been a good idea, after all. “Toby, I—”

“No,” he said, “there’s no need to explain. I had no claim to you, Eleanor. You were always free to choose another, and you did. How can I be angry at anyone but myself?”

Eleanor leaned on the wall of the stall, grateful for its solid presence between them. “Why didn’t you write, Toby?” she asked.

“Your mother was right,” he said. “I had nothing to offer you. Though we have done our best, my family was impoverished. It would have been wrong to engage your affections when I was so far away. So I told myself that I would give you your freedom, that if you really wanted me, you would wait.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t...” Eleanor paused, not sure what she meant to say. “I was so
young
, Toby. I didn’t know what love was.”

Now his eyes met hers at last. “Do you know now?” he asked.

She nodded. “I do.”

“That’s good enough for me, then,” he said. “I’m glad you’re content, Eleanor. Your husband is a good man, and he will do his best to make you happy.”

She stared at him in silence for a long moment before she said, “What will you do now?”

He grinned. “I have everything I want right here. Now that there’s enough money, I have no need to continue working for the Company. My contract is up. Perhaps I’ll breed horses and live as a country gentleman. There’s no rush to decide.”

She reached out her hand, and he took it. “Thank you, Toby,” she said, and then she went back out into the stableyard. As she rode away she looked back to see him standing at the gate, watching her go. But that part of her life, no matter how bittersweet it had been, was over.

It did not take Colin long to reach the Gullestons’ cottage. Mrs. Gulleston must have seen him riding across the flats, for she was standing in the doorway when he arrived, hands on hips.

“Now, young man,” she scolded as he dismounted, “what’s this I hear about your marrying our Miss Elly and not even inviting us to the wedding?” She sounded quite serious, but there was a twinkle in her eye that Colin recognized from his previous visit.

“My humble apologies, Mrs. Gulleston. We’ll be sure to send you a piece of the cake.”

She smiled at that, “Oh, don’t bother, dearie. We’re too old for such sweet things. Come inside and have you a cuppa.”

Mr. Gulleston was nowhere to be seen when Colin entered the small house. Mrs. Gulleston urged him into a chair and bustled about making tea and arranging a plate of biscuits. It was only as she brought them to the table that a loud snore emanated from the little bedroom.

“You’ll have to forgive the old Guller,” she said. “I made him have a little lie-down; he had such a fright last night that he hardly slept a wink.”

“What happened?” Colin inquired, trying to sound as though he were being no more than polite, allowing Mrs. Gulleston to have her little gossip.

But the old lady was clearly distressed. “He were out tinkering with the wagon; Lord knows why he were doing such a thing when it were getting dark and the clouds getting ready to let loose. But he would do, and nothing would stop him. Anyway, I went out to call him in, and I must have surprised him because he dropped his hammer. But what do you know, young man? Just as he bent down to get it a man comes riding by on a big gray, fast as if the devil hisself were chasing him. Nearly took poor Guller’s head off! The Guller yelled after him, but he was too far away by then to hear. Just rode off across the flats, though any fool knows not to ride amongst them when it’s dark. A body could kill hisself, riding like that. The poor Guller was so shocked he laid awake half the night.”

“Indeed?” Colin asked. “Which direction did he ride?”

“South, of course. Young fools,” Mrs. Gulleston muttered. “And our Miss Elly’s as bad as the rest of them, riding that beast of hers like she were in a race. You give her some pretty babies to look to, young man, d’you hear? Then she won’t need to go tearing about the countryside.”

Colin was certain his face was bright crimson, but he gave Mrs. Gulleston his solemn promise and took his leave. The old lady showed him out.

“You tell Miss Elly we sent our love,” Mrs. Gulleston said, just as another snore from the Guller rattled the windowpanes of the little house.

Colin nodded. “Of course, Mrs. Gulleston.” Then he rode away across the flats to the south.

It did not take him long to see what Mrs. Gulleston had meant about the Broads being a dangerous place at night. Though there was only one wide river in the area—the Bolling, for which the village was named—there were many little creeks and marshes that fed it, and everywhere there were pitfalls. Strathmore must have been quite desperate to come this way in the darkness, with storm clouds gathering. Colin ambled down the Broads, though he knew it was highly unlikely he would find anything to tell him which way Strathmore had gone.

Instead, he allowed himself to think about what Mrs. Gulleston had said. Colin had never imagined himself as a father—he had never particularly liked his own, and it was difficult to think of following in his footsteps without cringing. But if Eleanor...well, it was easy to imagine Eleanor with his child in her arms, and the picture that appeared in his mind made him suddenly long for it in a way he had never thought he would.

He was drawn out of his reverie when his horse gave a nervous snort and pawed the ground in agitation. Colin drew his wits about him again and looked around for whatever had startled the animal. It did not take him long to find it. In the damp ground were the trenches made by a skidding horse’s hooves, and not far beyond, his bloodied head mere inches from the rock it had struck, lay Simon Strathmore.

TWENTY-FOUR

It could not have been put off much longer, and yet Eleanor would have rather seen her new mother-in-law again almost anywhere but in the hall as she was coming in from her ride, muddy and wind-blown and bedraggled, with her hair loose and her cheeks still pink from an exhilarating gallop. Still, she managed to smile winningly and say, “Good morning, Lady Townsley.”

Her mother-in-law, resplendent in pale blue satin, looked her up and down assessingly. “Good morning, my dear,” she said at last. “You’ve been out riding, I see.”

“I have,” she said lamely. “Mornings are quite beautiful out on the Broads this time of the year. It’s a shame to waste them.”

She smiled at that, at least. “I am glad to hear you are an active sort of person,” she said. “It will serve you well, being married to Colin. The boy never seems to stop moving.”

Eleanor ran a self-conscious hand through her tousled hair. “I have noticed that, My Lady.”

For a moment, both women stared at each other, the silence hanging between them growing more and more uncomfortable. At last, Lady Townsley said, “You must wish to change out of those things. But perhaps you would care to sit in the salon with me this morning? If you are to accompany Colin back to the Continent so that he can continue his...work...then we must not squander this opportunity to get better acquainted.”

“Of course,” Eleanor said, feeling slightly offended by the tone with which Lady Townsley spoke of her son’s profession. Still, it would be foolish to waste a chance to escape, and so she made her excuses and rushed upstairs towards her room.

As she came to the top of the stairs she nearly ran into Princess Victoria, who was coming down the corridor, followed closely by Baroness Lehzen.

Skidding to a stop, Eleanor said, “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“Of course, Lady Pierce,” the princess said, smiling brightly. She was very young, Eleanor thought, and her childlike stature added to the impression. But there was something in her eyes, something deep and wise, as though she had seen the whole world and had grown tired of it already. “Have you been out riding?”

“Yes,” Eleanor said.

“It is a unique costume,” the baroness observed.

Eleanor was certain she blushed. “I have always preferred to ride astride, and I can only do so in the country,” she said. She would hate for the princess to think she went about London in such an outfit.

But Victoria merely smiled. “That is very sensible,” she said. Then she turned and held out her hand for her governess. “Well, Lehzen?”

The baroness took the little princess’s hand, and they went down the stairs together. Eleanor watched them go, wondering if this was another rule in the famous Kensington System, that Victoria had to have her hand held as she went down the stairs. What strange creatures women became once they had children, she thought. Certainly having borne a child who became the heir to the British throne had changed the Duchess of Kent, made her more protective and suspicious. Eleanor wondered if, when she had children, she would be the same.

What would it be like, she wondered, to have a child with Colin? What sort of father would he be? She had seen Clarissa’s husband playing with their twins, and the way Charles eagerly anticipated the birth of his child. Would Colin be the same? Once again, Eleanor found herself wishing she knew her husband better. Then she might know what to expect from him.

Perhaps her best opportunity to understand him was waiting for her in the salon. Eleanor sighed and rang for Lily.

It took the better part of an hour to ride back to the great house and return to collect Strathmore’s body on a cart. Colin sent Crawley along with the cart into Porter-on-Bolling. He had business at the great house, and it could not be delayed if the rest of his plans for the day were to succeed.

After leaving his horse in the stableyard Colin went down the servants’ stairs again, withdrawing from his pocket the single object he had collected from Strathmore’s body, along with the little scrap of white cloth he had found in the assassins’ campsite.

Udad was sitting calmly on his pallet, leaning back against the wall. Colin crouched down beside him and held out his hand. “Do you recognize these things?” he asked.

Lifting his hand with great effort, Udad reached for the cloth. “This I have not seen before,” he said, “but it say, ‘and give me strength in my great...’” he searched for the word, “‘in my great work’. It is part of a prayer.”

“You read Arabic?”

Udad nodded. “Before my family run out of money, I go to school with Usem.”

“And after?” They were straying from the topic Colin had hoped to discuss, but he was curious.

Shaking his head sadly, the man said, “When there no more money, I come home, join Serraray. They pay.”

“I see,” Colin said, though in truth he was horrified by the idea of a young man being forced into such a profession by poverty. “And this?” he asked, holding out the vial.

Udad took it. “This I know,” he said. “This is from the White Hand. How you get it?”

“It was found on the body of Mr. Strathmore,” he said.

“He...is dead?”

Colin nodded grimly.

“Praise Allah,” Udad said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. “I am free. And the Tuareg?”

“We have not found him.”

Udad opened his eyes again, but his stare was fixed on the far wall. “He is danger.”

“I understand, Mr. Udad. We will do everything we can to protect the princess. But one man alone can hardly breach the defenses we have set up.”