Drake's Lair (24 page)

“No, wait!” Drake cried. “Griggs, you’ve got to bring her back… go quickly, you’ve got to… to… before…!” The rest of his slurred speech descended into incoherent gurgling, the doctor having forced the opiate through his lips. Then it faded to slurred mumbles as he drifted off again into confusion, then oblivion.

*

James Ellery hurled his empty money pouch against the dingy wall in his room at the Black Stag Inn. He’d scarcely gotten inside the doors downstairs, before he’d become inundated with accounts of the fire at Drake’s Lair—of how fortunate the Earl of Shelldrake was to still be alive. They were toasting his ‘good fortune’ in the taproom at that very moment.
Alive
. He should have struck him a third time. Odds fish, what was he to do now?

All in all, the day had been a disaster. It started out so well, too. He was tired and hungry all for naught. He’d scarcely eaten in order to afford Demelza’s nuncheon and still have enough blunt left to try and double it in the gambling hell while she shopped Lemon Street, only to lose the rest at the tables. The fare home had totally rolled him up. He had scarcely enough coins to buy breakfast in the morning, and though he’d cast out the line about things not having gone well with the bankers, she hadn’t taken a nibble. Now he was going to have to beg, and she was still wary.

He hefted the candle stand, set to send it after his coin pouch, but decided against it. Better not. How would he pay for the damages? He flopped down on the bed and raked his hair back roughly. His throat was parched, his belly churning. What he wouldn’t give for a bottle of wine—for a decent meal, come to that. Thank God he’d paid for the room ‘till the end of the week in advance. If something didn’t turn up in his favor soon, he would have to sell the mare, if he could find a cod’s head fool enough to buy her. She wasn’t fit for much besides the knackery. Making matters worse, another flaw was brewing. He had three days. It would have to be enough.

He had done well touting Drake in a good light. She would be hard pressed to hold him suspect after that. It was brilliant. But had he gone too far? Now that the blighter was still alive, he was sorry that he’d made him out the martyr. She would be sympathetic toward him now. He’d seen it in her beautiful face—that doe-eyed sadness. What he wouldn’t give to have that look cast in his direction. He couldn’t console her over Drake’s death as he’d fantasized now, but she could console Drake, and he would tell her everything. He could still die, of course. They had said he was bad off. But that was too much to hope for, and he couldn’t go after him again so soon without risk of being found out.

There was one plus—an inspired plus—in that he’d suggested Drake was mad. That rumor was already circulating. If Demelza believed it, coming from others now as well as himself, it might just keep her away from him until he’d had a chance to make his move on her financially… and romantically. Clinging to that, he yielded to exhaustion, both mental and physical, and slept.

*

There wasn’t room for all of Melly’s new finery in Tisa’s wagon, and she arranged for the stationmaster to keep her purchases overnight, until she’d taken a room at Endean’s Boarding House on the outskirts of the village. The steward had offered to keep them for her at the inn, but she flatly refused. She wouldn’t be beholden to James Ellery under any circumstances. He had offered to see her to the Tinkers camp as well, so long as she didn’t mind riding double. The thought made her skin crawl. There was something too smooth and calculating about the man to be wholesome, and he was a self-confessed rake after all. The thought of being in such close proximity of him triggered an alarm. Thank the stars that Pascoe had the good sense to be waiting at the coaching station with the cart, or there surely would have been a scene over it.

She took only a change of clothing, and the ankle boots. It wouldn’t do to apply for a room in dirty, wrinkled clothes and torn shoes, even though she was slightly acquainted with Maud Endean, who ran the establishment.

Bone-weary from the journey, she slept soundly in Tisa’s cramped wagon, with Rosen’s youngest curled, like a kitten, at her feet. She would miss the children. She would miss their chubby little fingers sliding into her hands at the oddest moments. She would miss their laughter and their hugs, the magic of their reverent, wide-eyed trust, and gap-toothed smiles. She was glad that Endean’s Boarding House was so close by.

She woke with the birds in the morning just before first light, not the customary larks, lapwings, and morning doves that usually sang her awake, it was the discordant voices of herring gulls, tern, curlew, cormorant, and plover that assailed her ears. The lightening sky was white with them. Another flaw was on the way.

Rosen had already brewed the morning coffee when she left the wagon dressed in the blue twill frock she’d bought for gathering, and she took a cup before she set out for the boarding house. She was glad she’d brought that particular frock. A splotch of color was just what was needed to brighten the dreary day that seemed about to weep. In view of that, she set out at once, and she hadn’t gone far along the lane, when Dr. Hale’s trap blocked her way. He was coming from his cottage, which also served as his office, and at first she thought he was going to ask for one of her remedies, but a closer look at the gravity in his expression sent cold chills racing along her spine.

“Melly,” he greeted gruffly. “I was just coming to the Tinkers’ camp to fetch you, albeit against my better judgment. Have you heard about the fire at Drake’s Lair?”

“Fire?” she breathed. “When? Was anyone hurt? Mrs. Laity…?”

“Only Shelldrake and Griggs. His lordship got the worst of it—struck his head severely.”

“Is he…” Her heart had risen in her throat, preventing her from putting the fear that had all but paralyzed her into words.

“He’s alive, but he’s seriously injured, Melly, and he’s asking for you.”

“For
me
? What could he possibly want with me?”

“I’ll not lie to you, he’s addled. It could be the blow to his head. We’re watching him for coma. He wanted Griggs to fetch you, but the man’s got two burned hands, the bankers are due, and he’s needed to tend Shelldrake. He’s the only one who can make the blighter behave. Mrs. Laity’s too distraught. After his lordship came round yesterday afternoon raving and carrying on over fetching you, I had to sedate her.”

“My God,” she murmured. “You say, Griggs was burned… was his lordship…?”

“His left shoulder is blistered where his shirt caught fire,” said the doctor, “Griggs got him out of there just in time. That’s how he burned his hands. Shelldrake’s clothes had caught fire, and he beat out the flames barehanded.”

“When did it happen, Dr. Hale?”

“Night before last,” he responded, tightening his grip on the horse’s reins. The handsome bay had begun to snort and dance nervously. “I’m going to tell you plain out, I’m not given over to the idea of taking you out there. I don’t like the way Shelldrake’s behaving; I don’t like it at all, but other than keeping him under with laudanum, I’ve got a raving Bedlamite on my hands unless you put in an appearance.”

“O-of course, I’ll come,” she said, taking his hand to climb into the trap.

“Where were you going at this hour and a flaw on the way?” he inquired. Then, clacking his tongue to the horse meanwhile, he commanded the animal, ” Walk on!”

“I was going to apply for a room at Maud Endean’s. I can’t stay with the Tinkers much longer, there just isn’t room for me, and they’ve been so gracious. Why, when I returned from Truro last evening, Pascoe was waiting at the coaching station with the cart to spare me the walk. God alone knows how long he was standing there.”

“What were you doing up to Truro?”

“Replacing my clothes that burned when the cottage went. I’ve been going about as I was when I came to your cottage, living in a cast-off uniform that belonged to one of the housemaids at Drake’s Lair.”

“Ummmm, went up there all on your own, did you?” he said skeptically.

“It started out that way, but it seems Mr. Ellery was going up, too. We traveled together.”

“Shelldrake says he booted him out… something about mishandling the estate.”

“That’s what Mr. Ellery told me as well.”

“Did he?” the doctor erupted. “Must be true, then, mustn’t it—that he’s been sacked, that is?”

“Oh, quite true, yes. They evidently had a falling out of some sort.”

“Ummm,” the doctor grunted. “There’s something strange going on here. I wish I knew what it was. Either Drake Hannaford is as mad as a brush, or there’s something very wrong afoot, and if I’ve put you in jeopardy bringing you out there, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I want to go. Poor Mrs. Laity must be beside herself…and Griggs. They’re my friends. Please, doctor, stop at the Tinker’s camp. It’s right on our way. I have a salve of comfrey, houseleek, and elder blossom. I made it especially for burns.”

“I wish you had something for a broken heart, my dear, because, unless I miss my guess, that’s what’s at the root of his lordship’s madness. It didn’t happen in that fire, I guarantee you.”

“Believe me, Dr. Hale,” she murmured, desolate, “if I had such a remedy… I would take it myself.”

Eighteen

Prowse led Melly to the kitchen, where Mrs. Laity sat slumped over a cup of cold tea at the worktable, while the doctor went upstairs to assess Drake’s condition. The housekeeper burst into tears at sight of her, and Melly sat for some time with comforting arms wrapped around her before any words passed between them.

“It’s going to be all right, Mrs. Laity,” she soothed at last, when the woman’s sobs died to a simper.

“He’s not faring well, Miss Melly,” she replied through her handkerchief. “He lapsed back unconscious again this morning. I dunno’ if it’s the laudanum Dr. Hale has been feeding him, or the blow on the head, or the madness. He… doesn’t… know… me!” she wailed.

“Don’t cry. The doctor is here now. I came with him in his trap. See? I’ve brought some salve for Griggs’s hands… and his lordship’s shoulder.”

“Griggs won’t come down outa there,” the housekeeper sobbed. “He won’t leave the master. Hands all bandaged—can’t even dress himself. Smithers had to go up and help him, but he won’t leave his lordship’s bedside nohow.”

“Someone will have to take it up to him, then,” Melly said softly.

“If the master goes, I’ll go right along with him. I’ve kept this house since he was a bairn… he’s like my own. And I’ll never be able to stand it if they fling him into the madhouse, either. I’ll die, I swear it.”

“No, you won’t,” Melly said severely. She couldn’t brook the thought of either possibility now. She would come undone. “No such thing,” she insisted. “I won’t hear of it. He isn’t going anywhere, and he’s too stubborn and mean to die, that’s a plain fact.”

“Now, now,” said the housekeeper, almost smiling. “Don’t let him hear you say that. Why, he’s been bringing the house down over fetching you back here whenever he’s had a conscious spell.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“Neither can I, lass. We had the strangest conversation before the fire about you.”

“What sort of conversation?”

“I don’t even know… it was that strange. He had us all inta the servants’ hall to tell us about Mr. Ellery, and he said if we were keeping anything to ourselves that he should know about, we was to come to him with it straightaway. I went, because o’ what you told me about somebody hiding up in your rooms, and then somebody rattling the door handles trying to get in that other time.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that, Mrs. Laity.”

“No, lass, I had to, and I’m glad now that I did. It was Mr. Ellery up in your room, all right… at least that first time. He bribed Zoe with half-a crown to keep away so he could sneak up there. The master took it back from her. You can ask Zoe yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“But, why?” she cried, taken aback.

“I dunno’. The master thought…”

“Yes?”

“He thought you and Mr. Ellery was having an… assignation up there.”

“He
what
?” Melly shrilled, interrupting.

“He thought you two was meeting on the sly. Then, when I set him straight, and told him about the door handles, he had a mad spell—went clean off his head—picked me right up off the floor and spun me around like I was a feather—said he
loved
me, he did, and kissed me on my cheeks, babbling on all the while, making no sense. Then he run outa’ the study, and that was the last I saw o’ him ‘till half-an-hour later, when poor Griggs dragged him outa’ the fire.”

Melly stared. What could it all mean? God help him, he must be mad. It certainly didn’t sound like the same Earl of Shelldrake that she knew. But then, hadn’t he seemed ready to strike her down at the edge of the wood? She couldn’t exactly call his behavior that day normal either, even if she did finally know why he’d become so incensed. He could have prevented the whole unfortunate incident if he’d only told her. She’d certainly given him every opportunity to do so.

“I know what happened five years ago, Mrs. Laity,” she said low-voiced.

The housekeeper gasped. “Who told you, lass?”

“Mr. Ellery,” she replied.

“What was you doing with
him
?”

“Believe me, it wasn’t out of choice. We shared the same conveyance traveling to Truro yesterday. I can almost understand why his lordship didn’t tell me. It was vile. It must have been horrible for him.”

“It was, Miss Melly, and it broke his lordship’s heart. Nobody else knows the truth of it, just Griggs, me, Mr. Ellery, and Dr. Hale, o’ course. His lordship made us swear an oath of secrecy, else we lose our situations. Nobody else below stairs knows, and nothing ever leaked out… ‘till now, thanks to Dr. Hale saying it was natural causes. Mr. Ellery had no business speaking such things to you—a lady! That Jack o’ napes is going to spread it all over the parish now outa’ spite over the master throwing him out; he’s no gentleman, Mr. Ellery, sneaking around up in your rooms, and telling tales.”

“Well, no one will ever hear of it from me.”

“Nobody knows how the fire started,” the housekeeper moaned on the verge of tears again. “The way the master was found, it looked as though he fell and hit his head on the andiron. They say he’d been drinking, but I don’t know how that could be. There was no smell o’ drink on him when he kissed me on my cheeks, and the fire happened not half-an-hour after. He was just addled. When he come ‘round, he said somebody struck him from behind, but that makes no sense, either.”