Fenella J Miller (25 page)

Ned
watched helplessly, frustrated his injury prevented him from helping in the
ascent. He stared skywards and to his relief Billy tumbled through the window.
Seconds later the bolt was being drawn back. He led the charge up the spiral
stairs, pistol primed and ready to fire in one hand, his lantern in the other.
He prayed as he climbed that he would not be too late

Somewhere
Penny found the strength to push upright using the wall to brace
herself
. A few agonizing moments later she was able to raise
her head and stare at the man who meant to kill her. ‘
Mr
Weston, why are you doing this? I thought Ned was your friend, he trusts you as
a brother.’

His harsh
laughter sent a chill down her spine. ‘For years I’ve worked to keep this
estate running smoothly whilst he gallivanted around the Continent on his yacht
spending the money I produce for him. Headingly Court should be mine.
I
am the rightful owner; he does not
deserve to have this place. He has done nothing to promote its will being.’

She was
talking to a man deranged by jealousy and envy. ‘You have a good income from
your estates the other side of Ipswich, surely that’s enough? Is it worth
killing me to remain the heir? Ned will never allow you to take possession of
Headingly
, not after this. It’s madness – why do you wish to
forfeit everything?’

This was
the wrong thing to say, it would only inflame his fury, but nothing she could
say would change his mind anyway. All she could do was keep him talking as long
as possible in the remote hope that assistance would arrive to prevent her
death.

‘I think
you’re forgetting something, Miss Coombs, I’m not the stupid man you both
think. You’re going to suffer a terrible accident and fall from the tower to
your death. I shall be distraught with grief and no-one will ever know things
are not what they seem.’

Penny now
registered the fact that this man had already tried to kill her twice before.
He had tampered with the balloon, had paid someone to terrify Phoenix so they
both tumbled from the bridge to the river, and had his paid assassins try and
shoot her on her way over to
Headingly
.

‘You’re a
monster! Whatever you might think, Ned will see through your evil scheme,
cousin or not.’ His answer was to grab her by the throat and wrench her
forward. She struggled furiously, knowing her life was ebbing away with every
step he took towards the parapet. His choking grip prevented her from
screaming, but her feet were free to kick and she did so with such ferocity his
grip slackened an instant and she wriggled free.

She had a
chance, if she could just reach the open door and get on to the stairway she
might yet save herself. If only her head was clear and her vision not so
blurred. Her eyes had become accustomed to the moonlight and she could see well
enough to race for her life, but he was quicker. She had taken barely three
steps to freedom before his hands gripped her shoulders. He spun her around and
she didn’t see the blow that landed on her temple and plunged her into
darkness.

Ned
paused for a second in the doorway to allow his eyes to adjust. Perkins reached
forward and took the lantern, leaving him free to draw the other gun. Like a
wolf he sniffed the air, assessing the situation before he acted. Stepping on
to the tower he saw his cousin on the far side, a limp form in his arms. He was
in the process of pushing her over the parapet.

He didn’t
hesitate. He raised the pistol in his good arm, aimed and fired. James slumped
dead, shot through the heart, still holding the unconscious body in his arms.

Two
strides and Ned was beside them. He removed Penny from the death grip of his
cousin and cradled her in his arms. He felt blood seeping through his shirt
sleeve and knew his arrival could have been too late. He rocked back on his
heels, standing up smoothly.

‘Reynolds,
leave this bastard here, I will decide what to do about it later. I must get
Miss Coombs inside. Perkins, ride and fetch the doctor from the village. One of
you find the key, it must be in his pocket. Lock the tower. Remain close by –
I’ll have work for you later.’

Billy led
the way and he followed close behind. Fred trailed them. Between the three of
them they made sure there were no further accidents.

As he ran
across the grass his mind was racing; he had shot his cousin, he’d had no
choice, but the repercussions could be unpleasant. He was fond of his aunt and
didn’t want her to know what her son had done or how he had met his end.

He
returned the way he’d left and by this time he’d formulated a plan that would
cover up the perfidy of James and his own part in his death. He halted briefly
to speak to his man. ‘Perkins, tell Brown there’s been a terrible accident.
Tell her
Mr
Weston is dead and Miss Coombs gravely
injured, Say they both fell down the tower steps as they were descending and
Mr
Weston has broken his neck.’

Perkins
understood at once.
‘Understood, sir.
We’ll transfer
the cadaver to his room and make sure the doctor gives us a suitable
certificate.’

As his
own apartments were nearer Ned decided to take her there. It would be damn near
impossible to negotiate the narrow passageways with an unconscious body in his
arms. He was forced to take the shortest route to the hall then continue
through the house at speed until he arrived at his own rooms. Billy, who had
kept pace with him, flung open the door.

 
Lady Dalrymple was still there, waiting
anxiously for news. ‘My lady, Penny has been injured in an accident. I’ve sent
for the doctor, but will deal with her injuries myself until he arrives. Could
you attend to
Mrs
Weston; my cousin has unfortunately
been killed in the same accident.’ He paused for a second to make sure she had
understood his cryptic message.

‘Lord
Weston, what a terrible tragedy. I shall go at once to offer my support and
condolences to
Mr
Weston’s mother.’

Simpson
had heard the conversation and already had the bed turned down ready to receive
the patient.

 
‘Miss Coombs has head injuries, Simpson, she’s
unconscious and has lost a deal of
blood.Send
for her
abigail
, it’s better if
she’s present whilst we deal with this.’

Ned
gestured to Billy and the young man vanished. ‘She’s too cold and still. I pray
to God that things are not as black as they look.’

Chapter Twenty-six

Mary arrived
scarcely five minutes after Billy had been sent to fetch her. Ned glanced up as
the maid came in and tried to reassure her. ‘There has been a tragic accident,
Mary. Your mistress has been sorely injured and poor
Mr
Weston has died. I need your assistance until the physician arrives.’

‘Mercy me!
How dreadful! How did this it happen, sir?’ She hurried over to join him by the
bed. ‘Here, my lord, let me do that, you look fit to drop yourself.’

‘It
appears Miss Coombs and
Mr
Weston went to the top of
the tower in order to watch the fireworks display. It must have been on their
descent that they fell, as they were found at the foot of the staircase.
Mr
Weston broke his neck and Miss Coombs received head
injuries as you can see.’

He
watched the maid apply pressure on the back of Penny’s head and knew he could
leave her in these safe hands. The woman was right, he did feel decidedly
peculiar. He brushed his good hand across his shirt and it came away sticky
with blood. Racing up and down downstairs and carrying Penny across to the
house had reopened both his wounds.

He smiled
grimly; Penny was not the only one who needed urgent medical attention. Vaguely
he heard Simpson returning to the room and the clatter of basin being put down.

‘Come
along, sir, you’d better sit down in the sitting-room. You’ll do nobody any
good if you swoon away in here.’

Simpson
grasped his arm and guided him back to the chair he had been occupying scarcely
an hour before. He subsided on to the seat with relief. He was at his last ebb.
Closing his eyes he let the dizziness wash over him; at least when he was
semi-conscious he didn’t have to think. He heard voices beside him and then
somebody pressed something against the front and back of his shoulder wounds.

 
‘Here, young man, hold these pads steady
whilst I bandage his lordship’s shoulder. I thought I had managed to avoid the
necessity of stitches, but I fear I was mistaken. Both Miss Coombs and Lord
Weston will need sutures.

‘Simpson,
how is Miss Coombs? Has she recovered consciousness yet?’

‘No, my lord, I’m afraid to say she has not.
However, the bleeding has stopped and she’s breathing more evenly.’

Ned
relaxed on to the chair when the bandaging was complete. ‘It’s damn cold in
here, fetch me a blanket.’

‘Here, my
lord, drink this first. It’s sweetened wine; it will warm you and replace some
of the blood you have lost.’

Obediently
he swallowed and the rich red liquid began to restore him. ‘I’ll have another,
Simpson.’ His man was reluctant, but a couple of glasses of watered wine would
not make him bosky. His head was harder than that.

The
doctor arrived a little after midnight. Foster brought him in and Simpson
escorted him directly to the bedchamber. Lady Dalrymple hadn’t returned and he
guessed she was still consoling his aunt. He was glad
Mrs
Weston had a daughter left to offer her comfort; she wasn’t entirely alone in
the world.

The
grounds were eerily silent after all the excitement of earlier. Word of
Mr
Weston’s accident must have reached the crowd of
revellers
and, in twos and
threes,
they had slipped away, not wishing to intrude on the family’s grief. Word of
the misfortune would be all over the
neighbourhood
by morning. At least he wouldn’t have to send
out cancellations to the ball: all the guests would know it could no longer
take place.

He jolted
upright, sending agonizing twists of pain through his shoulder. Good grief! The
ball was not the only thing that would have to be cancelled. Neither Penny, nor
he, would be in a fit state to go ahead with the wedding in two days’ time.

When the
doctor eventually re-emerged Ned was fully awake and watching the door. ‘How is
Miss Coombs? Will she do?’

The
elderly man, dressed in faded black, nodded. ‘Yes, my lord. The head injury
required several stitches, but it’s superficial. She’s already recovering from
the blow that knocked her unconscious. I believe she has suffered a slight
concussion, nothing worse, and in a few days will be fully restored. However, I
do not recommend moving her tonight. It would be better if she remain where she
is.’

‘No matter.
Thank you, sir, I’m quite happy to spend the night here in this arm-chair.’

The
doctor came across to examine his injuries. ‘I must apologize, my lord, but it
will be impossible for me to deal with these wounds whilst you’re sitting in a
winged-chair. Could I ask you to remove yourself to the daybed? It will make it
so much easier for me to stitch you up.’

Simpson
and the doctor gripped him by the elbows and somehow he managed to place one
foot in front of the other until he collapsed on to the
chaise-longue
. ‘Hell and damnation! I thought I had recovered, but
my legs were shaking like a blancmange.’

‘When did
you receive your injury, Lord Weston?’

‘I
forget, three days ago and I think.’

Simpson
spoke up. ‘Yes, it was three days ago. I did the best I could,
Dr
Green, but I hadn’t expected his lordship to be running
up and down flights of stairs and carrying Miss Coombs across the garden.’

The
doctor chuckled. ‘I shall now do what should have been done in the first
place.’ With deft fingers he removed the sodden bandages and inspected the two
bullet wounds. The doctor’s shocked gasp told Ned the man had recognized the
significance of the two holes in his shoulder. Ned gritted his teeth as neat
brandy was tipped over both sides of his shoulder and the doctor began his gory
work.

He
came to as the final twist of bandage was patted in place and securely tied.

‘Lord
Weston, if this time you rest in bed for a day or two I’ll guarantee you’ll be
as good as new by the end of it.’

Ned
managed a weak smile. ‘Thank you,
Dr
Green. There’s
another task I must request you to perform. I require your absolute discretion,
is that understood?’

The
doctor nodded, he had already heard there had been a fatality at
Headingly
as well as the injuries he had already dealt with.
‘Go on, my lord. I will do what I can to help.’

He gave
him a brief account of what had transpired over the past weeks.
Dr
Green was silent ‘As you can imagine, I don’t wish
Mrs
Weston to be any more upset than she is already; I
don’t believe there’s any reason for her to know that her son was deranged and
tried to murder both myself and Miss Coombs several times. Neither is there any
reason for her to know that I shot him. I wish you to issue a death certificate
stating that he broke his neck in a fall. Are you prepared to do that for me?’

Dr
Green
didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course, it’s the least I can do in the circumstances.
Mr
Weston has always been the most charming and delightful
gentleman. It’s well known in medical circles that madness of the worst kind
can be disguised under a veneer of good
humour
and
only when something like this occurs does anyone realize just how bad the
situation is.’

He
snapped his bag shut and stood up. ‘If you’ll have me taken to
Mr
Weston I shall issue the certificate straightaway. I
suggest a funeral is held at once. I expect you will be well enough to attend
in a day.’

Ned
clasped the older man’s hand in a firm grip. ‘Thank you, I’m in your debt.’

He
settled back on the pillows Simpson had found for him and pulled the thick
comforter up around his chin. His shoulder hurt like the very devil, but now he
knew his darling girl was going to be well, he didn’t care about his own
injuries. He needed to sleep; maybe tomorrow he would make sense of what had
happened, but until then he refused to dwell on the discovery that someone he
had considered a loving relative, had been a lunatic with murderous intent.

Penny
rested soundly in her unaccustomed bed. She woke as the curtains were being
drawn back and sunlight filled the room. Still drowsy from her laudanum induced
sleep she attempted to sit up. A stabbing pain in the back her head made her
exclaim out loud.

‘Good
heavens, miss, you stay where you are. The doctor said you were not to move
from that there bed for at least twenty-four hours.’

‘Where am
I, Mary? This is not my own room.’ Gingerly she touched the back her head and
felt the softness of the bandage around it. Then she remembered. A wave of
nausea swamped her and for a moment her head spun.

‘I’m
afraid I have some very bad news, to give you Miss Coombs.
Mr
Weston, God rest his soul, fell down the stairs with you last night and he died
when he broke his neck.’

Penny
opened her mouth to deny that she’d fallen down stairs but closed it again quickly.
This was obviously the story that was being told and she was not going to
contradict it. But how
had
Mr
Weston died? And why was she snug in Ned’s bed; for that
matter, where was Ned himself?

‘Mary,
how do I come to be in Lord Weston’s room and where is he?’

‘His
lordship carried you back before being overcome himself. The activity tore open
his shoulder wounds and the doctor had to stitch it up for him last night.
However, Simpson says as he’s fighting fit this morning.’

The door
opened and she looked round. ‘Good morning, my love, how are you today? I must
say you look a deal better than you did last night.’

Her smile
was radiant. ‘Come in, my love. I cannot believe my presence here obliged you
to sleep in your drawing-room; could you not have found a spare bed somewhere
in this vast establishment?’

Ignoring
the scandalized looks from Mary, he strolled in and perched on the edge of the
bed. Taking both her hands in his, he murmured softly. ‘They didn’t dare
suggest it to me, sweetheart. I was going nowhere until I was certain that you
were well again.’

‘I have a
shocking headache, but otherwise I feel perfectly well.’ She glanced across at
Mary rigid with disapproval at the far side of the bed. ‘Mary, I want you to go
at once to the kitchen and fetch us something to eat. I am famished and I’m
sure his lordship wishes to eat as well.’

‘Very well, Miss Coombs.
I shall find Simpson and send him.’

‘No, you
shall go yourself, and take Simpson with you. Lord Weston and I wish to be
alone.’ She fixed her maid with a direct and compelling stare and after a few
moments Mary curtsied and stalked, ramrod stiff, into the dressing room.

They
waited until they heard the distinctive click of the servant’s door closing
behind the two members of staff before resuming their conversation.

‘Tell me
what really happened on the tower last night. I remember nothing after
Mr
Weston struck me down. He was going to throw me over the
parapet you know.’

‘I know
that; I’m sorry to tell you, my darling, that I was obliged to shoot him.’

‘I’m glad
you did, my love. Otherwise he would have spent the remainder of his life
incarcerated in an asylum. That would have been so much worse for
Mrs
Weston and her daughter.’

‘I
agree. It’s strange that I pride myself on being a good judge of character, but
never for one moment suspected that my own cousin was criminally insane.’ He
bent forward and kissed her softly. ‘May I join you, darling? I had spent a
miserable night stretched out on the hardest
chaise-longue
in England.’

‘This
is your bed, so I can hardly say no, can I?’

She
smiled as he swung his legs up and stretched out with a sigh of pleasure. She
saw he was
bootless,
in fact all he had on were his
breeches and his sadly mired shirt.

‘Ned,
tell me, what shall we do about our wedding? We can hardly get married now
there has been a death in the family.’

‘The
physician told me that neither of us should leave our beds for at least a day.
I’m perfectly agreeable to do so as long as you’re in the bed in which I must
remain.’ His words slid like hot silk over her skin. His meaning was perfectly
clear to her even in her befuddled state.

Heat
suffused her cheeks and pooled in a most unexpected region. Breathlessly she
whispered her answer. ‘Stay together here? You know we can’t remain in the same
bedchamber overnight. We’re not married, and now that your cousin is dead, it
could be six months before we can tie the knot.’

Lazily
he yawned and his fingers stroked her cheek. ‘That is fustian, my darling girl.
Once we have totally compromised your reputation, even
Mrs
Weston will agree that an immediate marriage is essential.’

‘But nothing will happen - neither of us
are
in any fit state to misbehave.’