Emily Hendrickson (18 page)

“You may stick your head in a bucket for all I care,” Elizabeth muttered, gathering her reticule and shawl in her hands.

“Now, now, mustn’t get tetchy. Sign of old age,” he teased.

“I am beginning to feel a hundred, what with catering to you, worrying about your father, and wondering if there is anything to be salvaged from my poor reputation.”

“Fine time to begin fretting about that.” His eyes seemed to dance with amusement at her belated show of discretion. “Besides, your respectable Aunt Bel is agreeable, most likely to ensnare me good and proper.”

In fairness, she nodded regretfully. “I daresay you have the right of it.” Elizabeth had no desire to ensnare anybody. She ought to have had more concern before, but her wits appeared to have gone begging.

He straightened, leaving the window to walk to her side. Elizabeth paused on her way to the door, wondering what was up his sleeve now.

“You are not to brood over that. I have a plan to take care of the matter.” He reached out to gently touch her cheek, which quite undid her.

Blinking back a threatening tear, she said in a constricted voice, “Filpot would not allow me in to see your father this morning. I just know something is amiss. Tell me that he is not worse.”

“I am not a doctor, Elizabeth. I cannot say. I confess he is not the same as yesterday, however.”

“I knew it. The dear man. And he had so enjoyed my reading
Pride and Prejudice
to him.” She hunted in her reticule for a handkerchief, then dabbed the moisture in her eyes. “I believe I shall return to Montmorcy Hall to persuade Purvis to attend your father.” She blew her nose, a dainty sound compared to the great noise when Leighton followed suit.

“We, sir, are a pair of watering pots.” Her giggle was distinctly quavery.

“Precisely. I suggest we take ourselves out of here for the nonce.” He gallantly offered his arm.

Suddenly wanting to be away from the house, the problems that seemed so threatening, Elizabeth nodded her agreement. Placing her hand on his proffered arm, she gave him a tentative smile. “Where?”

He urged her along the corridor toward the front hall. “Have you ever been to the grotto? My father had it constructed for my mother before I was born. It was her great delight—after me, of course.”

“Naturally,” Elizabeth replied, chuckling at the mischievous tilt to his grin. “What a pity your mama could not have seen what a scamp you have become.”

The look he gave her was most peculiar, unfathomable, and Elizabeth feared she had overstepped that line betwixt friendly banter and polite social chitchat. However, he did not say anything more, which left her totally at sea.

When they reached the hall, he spoke again, relieving her of the worry she had somehow offended him.

“Put on a warm pelisse and stout half-boots, for the caves can be chilly this time of year, and the ground may be quite damp in patches.”

“Ought you go there with such a nasty cold?”

“I have a friend who firmly believes that the best way to cure a cold is to take a plunge in an icy pond, then go to bed with a bottle of gin.”

“That sounds like a feather-brained notion, if you ask me,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head at the image it provoked of a thoroughly soaked Lord Leighton, both inside and out.

“Go,” he urged, then stood watching as Elizabeth walked lightly up the stairs.

She wondered what thoughts went skimming through his head. How did the rakish gentleman perceive her now? Then the very idea that she might even care about such brought her to her senses, and she scolded herself all the way to her room.

When she rejoined Lord Leighton, he was also dressed with more care than customary. Even though the day appeared mild, he had wound a scarf about his throat, and his coat was neatly buttoned over his vest. He extended a gloved hand to her, and Elizabeth hesitantly accepted it.

“The grotto?” she sought to confirm.

“Never say you are off to that hideous creation,” Egbert sneered from the entry to the hall. “With all due respect to your mama, David, that is a ghastly place, dripping moss and decorated with bizarre statues. Gives me the chills just thinking about it.”

“I had not thought you such a poor-spirited creature, cousin.” David edged Elizabeth toward the door.

She was relieved that David did not appear angered by his cousin’s nasty little barb. Rather, it seemed to her that he sought to avoid conflict with this odious relative. She caught sight of Jeremy Vane hovering in the background, coming from the other wing of the house.

“And do you share Mr. Percy’s lack of enthusiasm for the grotto, Mr. Vane?”

The flicker of alarm on his face really was nothing to be concerned about, Elizabeth assured herself.

“Curious spot. I daresay you shall like it. Some might think it romantic.” His eyes darted from Elizabeth to David, then back to her again. Suddenly she wondered if she was doing the right thing.

Once outside the house, she turned to Lord Leighton, saying, “I ought to bring Rose along with us. Really, sir, you have drawn me into the most scrambling ways.”

“Unquestionably,” he smoothly replied. “But then, you must be accustomed to unorthodox conduct, living with your sisters.”

“If you mean that we were ostensibly alone after Geoffrey went off to the Peninsula, that is true. But Julia is a highly respectable widow, you know. We were not ever
that
out of bounds, I assure you, and never uncouth, I believe.”

“Are you working on a commission at present?” he queried, apparently wishing to change the subject. He assisted her along the rough path, guiding her over a fallen log and around the end of the pond.

“A series of country scenes for Mr. Ackermann. There was but one left to complete when you so precipitously entered my room. I daresay he will accept them, figuring to publish them for next winter. I ought to finish that final one before I forget what winter looks like. Things change so quickly.” She gestured to the scene about them, green buds where light snow had blanketed shrubs not long before.

Elizabeth thought the grounds near the house sadly neglected, something Jeremy Vane ought to have tended and obviously had not. Reeds marched thickly along the edge of the water, and pond weed looked to be rampant. Good for the ducks perhaps, but not proper management to her way of thinking. She revised her opinion of the young man as she glanced about her. The gardens ought to have been groomed as carefully as the house or fields, not forgotten.

“Why the frown? Are you having second thoughts about the grotto?”

“Nothing like that.” She was loath to reveal her new opinion of the steward and sought a different direction.

“I confess I wonder about this clever person who wishes you and your father ill. We have not inspected the kitchens. If you believe the food suspect, might not the poison be found there?”

He stopped, turning to face Elizabeth, quite serious for once. “I expect you are right. Cannot think why it did not occur to me before this. Perhaps you could snoop about down there, for I dare not consider such—the cook would sense something odd immediately.”

“I shall try,” she replied, wondering how the cook would accept her presence.

They had reached a cavernous opening some distance from the pond. Large stones buttressed the front and into the entranceway. A forlorn statue of Hera stood guard nearby.

Elizabeth decided that David appeared even more handsome when he became solemn. She matched his mood, standing quietly, waiting for him to conclude his remarks.

“Actually, I suspect that Jeremy Vane is the one we seek.” His stark revelation shocked Elizabeth.

“Preposterous,” she scoffed. “It seems to me that Egbert takes a far greater dislike of you than poor Mr. Vane. Your own father took him in, trained him,” she reminded. “How could Mr. Vane possibly wish his benefactor dead? I think you are wrong. Where does he appear in the line of succession?”

“I confess I had not considered him in that light. He would need to do in the lot of us. Jeremy always presents his best face to others, no one would suspect him but I.”

“You are absurd. He is always agreeable to you. Certainly, he has been nothing if not helpful to me.” She stepped from David’s side, her confusion causing her to withdraw from him in every way.

“Does that mean you shan’t help me? Remember, you
are
betrothed to me, and you did shoot me in the arm. You owe me something.” That mischievous look had returned to his eyes. Elizabeth did not trust it in the least. She fingered the ring he had given her, presumably for appearances.

“We shall see,” she temporized, not wishing to be forced into a decision she might regret later. She looked about her, observing the unusual entrance. “I gather we have arrived at the grotto. I should like to see it now that we are actually here.”

He smiled, then took her arm, guiding her along a rugged path that broadened out as they entered a fantastic cavern. It was studded with seashells of every size, shape, and color. Delighted with the beauty concealed beyond the rather grim entrance, Elizabeth clapped her hands with pleasure.

“I gather that you like it?” He stood not far away, watching her as she stared about her, wide-eyed at the unusual scene.

“Yes, indeed. You sent someone ahead to light the torches. How thoughtful of you.” Her antagonism began to melt as she slowly turned around to study everything. She observed how the lighting brought out interesting shapes, accenting the beauty of the shells and their delicate colors. From here and there shy cupids and dainty fawns peeped at them, their subtle colorings blending in with the shells rather nicely.

“There originally were small apertures to admit light. Over the years they have become clogged with dirt and debris.”

“Mr. Vane ought to have better attended to the care of this charming place,” she murmured as she wandered away from David’s side to study a particularly lovely shell.

“There are a lot of things Mr. Vane ought to have tended and has not. He has hoodwinked my father, but not me. I see through that mealy-mouthed talk. He is an earwig who tattles tales to my father about me. Fortunately, my father is not about to believe those stories.”

“He carries malicious tales? About you?” Elizabeth was shaken. She had believed Jeremy Vane to be a just and righteous man, and had worried that David was not all that was honorable. Could she have been so mistaken? About both of them?

Not wanting to probe further at this moment, she turned to inspect another shell. “Where did these come from?”

“My father had an arrangement with a number of sea captains to bring boxes of shells back from their journeys.”

They began to stroll along the irregular wall. The gentle sound of water cascading over rock grew louder until they turned a corner, and the breathtaking view of a dainty waterfall came into sight. Elizabeth stopped short, altogether entranced with the sight.

“This idea is not all that unusual. I have learned of several others who have achieved similar results with their grottos and so-called ‘sublime’ gardens.”

“Well, and I think it very fine. So I shall tell your father when I see him again. If I see him again. I rather suspect there is something you are hiding from me.”

He failed to meet her eyes, glancing off to where the icy water tumbled and foamed over the rocks, then bubbled on its way to the pond, not far removed. He began to lead her away from the falls, to where she could hear what he said more clearly. He stepped close to her, tilting up her face so he might search her eyes. “Elizabeth ...”

She held her breath, looking at David to see if he also heard the click of footsteps on the stone.

“Someone is in here,” she whispered, uneasy, suspecting that the grotto had but one entrance, that if another chose to do them harm it would be a simple matter.

A sharp report and a chunk of the ceiling fell next to where David and Elizabeth stood. They stared with shock at the debris near their feet.

Flashing her a warning glance, David cautiously edged forward around the bend. He motioned for Elizabeth to follow him. Inch by inch they made their way along the rough path. Elizabeth stubbed her toe on a rock, and pressed her lips together to keep from crying out in pain.

When they came to the central portion of the grotto, they found it empty. The trickle of water down the walls and around and over the stones was all that could be heard. Elizabeth placed a shaky hand on the head of one of the cupids, feeling stupidly weak.

“Whoever it was has disappeared. I wonder what he planned for us?” David wandered about, studying the floor. He bent over to pick up a small object, dropping it into his pocket without comment.

“I believe I should like to return to the house.” She shivered, suddenly aware that she felt very chilled.

David quietly agreed. Outside, they discovered the sun had retreated behind clouds. The wind had picked up and bit cruelly through their coats, tugging at Elizabeth’s snug-fitting velvet bonnet with frigid fingers. Many times she found herself stumbling on the path, and was exceedingly grateful for the helping hand extended her. But she remained silent for the most part.

Elizabeth worried over David, although she’d not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. He had insisted upon leaving his bed, and seemed bent on destruction, what with ice skating and now the walk to the grotto. She was sure he ought to have remained quiet, warm, and safe by the fireside, if not in bed.

When they entered the house, she spoke quietly to Sidthorp while he assisted her with her pelisse. Then hesitantly she turned to face David, very much Lord Leighton at the moment, looking down that nose of his at her as though she were no more than his serf.

“I have requested Sidthorp to order you a hot bath. May I suggest you take that bottle of gin along, for surely you are as cold as when you were in the pond.”

“What an amazingly selective memory you have.”

“Do not sneer at me.”

“I can’t do it half as well as Egbert, anyway.”

Not able to argue this point, Elizabeth walked beside David to the top of the stairs, where she paused. “I believe I shall investigate the kitchen and send for Purvis as well. I should like her to have a look at your father, not to mention tend your ague, which you are sure to develop. She has a way of making a person remain in bed, which is where you ought to stay,” she scolded.