Lady Jane (25 page)

He watched her move dazedly across the hall, pull open the heavy front door, and step out. He then turned back to the room and closed the door. Crossing rapidly to the body, he knelt and folded Leach’s hand around the gun, finger over the trigger, then stood up to confront the frightened butler, who watched him silently, his face blanched and greasy with perspiration.

“Where are some writing materials?” Jaspar snapped authoritatively. The man scuttled across the room and scrabbled about at the desk in the corner.

“Here sir. Here they are—paper—pen—ink—”

“Right! Sit down and write as I tell you.”

“I—I—don’t write, sir.”

“Can you sign your name?”

“A course I can sign me name!” the man protested.

Jaspar sat down and wrote swiftly, stopping only once. “You brought the boy here?” The man nodded. “Did you have a weapon?”

“Me knife,” the man confessed, “but I never hurt ’em. It was Leach hit the man after we got here. I—”

“Very well, that’s enough.” Jaspar finished and handed the pen to the man. “Sign there—at the bottom.”

“What’s this then?”

“It’s a confession, admitting that you forced Lord Clinton and his groom to come to this house at knife point, and assisted in their unlawful retention here against their will. I will keep this paper. If I ever hear Lady Payton or her son mentioned in connection with the death of this man I shall know it came from you, at which time I will take the confession to the authorities and lay charges against you.”

“Here now!! No cause to be that way, yer lordship. I’ll sign and all, and no fear I’ll ever open me mouth. But what’ll we do about—him?”

“As soon as I leave, you will take that glass on the mantel to the kitchen and wash it and burn this feather muff in the fire. Then you’ll run to the nearest authorities and tell them, in great distress, that you were in your own quarters and heard a shot. You came in here and found your master had killed himself. Beyond that you know nothing at all. Do you understand? Nothing.”

“They’ll think I done it,” the man protested.

“They’ll have no reason to think anything of the kind if they don’t find any of his possessions on you or among your effects, so see you don’t steal anything. You’ll look completely innocent, and it will never occur to them to think anything other than that, for some unknown reason, the man killed himself. That’s all anyone will be able to say. Now sign this and I’ll go. Follow my instructions exactly.”

The man bent and laboriously traced out the letters of his name. Jaspar made a great show of folding the paper and stowing it away in his pocket before striding out of the room without a backward glance.

25

The
trip back to Payton House was a jolting nightmare as Jane relived, over and over, that deafening moment of the gun’s explosion, followed by the vivid crimson splotch appearing on Leach’s chest. She watched helplessly as those few seconds repeated themselves tirelessly before her eyes, horror-fresh each time.

When the carriage stopped, however, the image was wiped away on the instant by the sight of Clinton standing in the open doorway of her house between Crews and William, peering anxiously. All logical reasoning, which had been blasted into tiny fragments to the outmost edges of her consciousness, suddenly clicked back together at the sight of that small body in the doorway. He was the only thing that mattered. His person was secure, and now she must forget everything, except putting this whole thing into proper perspective for him. She could not allow him to become a victim of unnatural fears because of this.

As it happened, however, Clinton’s four-year-old mind, uncluttered by adult reasoning, had already grasped the essentials of right and wrong in the matter.

Jane flew up the steps and lifted him into her arms for a long, wordless embrace. He hugged her close and kissed her cheek, a concession which vividly demonstrated the depth of his worry for her. She carried him into the house within a circle of hovering, tearful servants.

“You should not have sent me and William away, Mama,” Clinton chided her, “you are only a woman and I should have stayed to protect you.”

“I know you are very brave, darling,” she said, kneeling before him, “but they were so much bigger than you and I was afraid they might do you an injury if you tried to protect me. I know you were not afraid of them.”

“I—I
was
afraid when that man hit William and made him bleed,” Clinton confessed reluctantly.

“So would I have been. But it’s good to be afraid, otherwise how can one be called brave? And you were very brave.”

“Oh, he was that, m’lady,” William offered with a grin. “When that Leach hit me, young master went for him like a tiger.”

“Good God!” Jane was horrified at what Leach might have done to such a small source of annoyance. “Did he—?”

“He only pushed him off and told his man to lock him in another room,” said William.

“But if I had had my papa’s pistol I would have killed those bad people,” said Clinton firmly.

“Oh darling, you mustn’t—” Jane protested faintly.

“Yes, I would too. My papa would have killed them for treating me so and hitting William! When I am bigger I will take my papa’s pistol and kill those bad people. My papa would expect me to.”

Jane’s eyes filled with tears and she hugged him convulsively, too overcome with the irrefutability of this statement to comment on it. He allowed the embrace for a moment before wriggling free. “Why are you crying
now
, Mama?” he asked, bewildered by such an excess of emotion now danger was over. He looked at Crews. “I expect it’s because she’s a woman. I think they cry quite a lot.”

Jane, feeling hysteria close to engulfing her at this condescension, rose to her feet, bidding Clinton go along with Nurse now while Mama went up to change, and dispersed the servants. She just managed to reach her room and privacy before giving way. She wept wholeheartedly for a short time and felt very much better for it After washing her face and rearranging her hair, she changed to a house gown and sat down to compose herself.

I, Jane Coombes Payton, have killed another human being and must somehow learn to accept the fact. True, the man was evil, and treated me in a bestial way once, apart from the way he treated Sarah and then threatening to cripple Clinton or force him to watch his mother being raped before his eyes. Oh, I would not have allowed that! I would have shot him first, and felt no compunction. And if I had not remembered Sebastian’s pistols, he might very well have been able to carry out his threats and I would have been helpless.

Well then, should I have stayed my hand when he attacked me?

Would not any woman with a weapon in her hand at such a moment have done the same and find nothing to blame herself for? No, and I will not condemn myself. No doubt the thing will haunt me for the rest of my life, but that is small enough price to pay for—

She suddenly shot straight up out of the chair, every nerve end jangling with fear. It was not until that moment that she realized her act, however justifiable in her own eyes, was a crime in the eyes of the rest of Society and as such, punishable by hanging!

She saw again that dreadful moment, and heard the reverberating sound of the shot, and then—then? What exactly had she done then? She tried to recapture the events immediately following the shot, but her mind remained stubbornly blank. The next thing after that was the sight of Clinton standing at the top of the steps of Payton House, Great heavens! How had she gotten there? A carriage, of course, she remembered that much, but where had it come from? She must have walked out of the house and found a carriage for hire. Had she paid the man? Crews must have done so.

But wait, what of that grinning butler? Was it possible his master’s orders had been followed so carefully the man had not dared show his face even when a pistol shot rang out? No doubt he had crept up after she had gone and found Leach. Had he then run for help and even now the authorities were on their way to arrest her?

She clutched her temples distractedly and rushed downstairs to find Crews. He could provide her with at least an answer about the carriage. She had not far to go to find him, for he was just admitting Lady Stanier, her face sheet-white.

“Jane!” she gasped and promptly fainted away. Crews caught her expertly and carried her toward the back drawing room, Jane running ahead to open the door for him and find the vinaigrette she kept in her workbox there.

In only a moment, Lady Stanier’s eyelids fluttered open. “That was a helpful thing to do now, wasn’t it?” she commented wryly. Jane smiled and bent to kiss her cheek.

“Oh, Jane,” sighed Lady Stanier, “what a dreadful ordeal for you. He said you and Clinton were safe, but all the way here I was so fearful. The sight of you sent me reeling.”

Jane nodded dismissively to Crews, who withdrew discreetly. “Er—he? Who told you I was safe?”

“Montmorency, of course.”

“But—but how—?”

“Poor darling, you’re all about in your head, and no wonder. He sent you away at once, and you may be perfectly easy now, he has taken care of everything beautifully.”

“He has?”

“Yes, thank God, and very well, too, to my way of thinking. He says that after he shot the man and got you out of the house he put the gun in Leach’s hand so—”

“Wait! Wait!” Jane’s mind was spinning chaotically. “He was there? I don’t understand—he says that
he
—” Jane’s voice rose hysterically on the last word.

Lady Stanier rose from the sofa and took charge, all faintness gone. She pushed Jane onto the sofa and applied the vinaigrette, before crossing to pull the bell rope vigorously. Crews entered immediately. “Bring some brandy,” ordered Lady Stanier crisply.

“Wait—Crews—what carriage was I in when I arrived home?”

“Why, Lord Montmorency’s, m’lady.”

“Oh Lord,” Jane sighed, falling back onto the sofa resignedly. She was, without doubt, losing her mind. The anxiety and fear had finally driven her over the edge into madness.

“Please bring the brandy, Crews,” requested Lady Stanier, and when the door closed behind him said to Jane, “now, my love, just be quite quiet and don’t worry. Clinton and you are safe forever from that monster and I shall bless Montmorency every day of my life for dispatching the brute from the world. And due to his quick thinking it will never be linked with you or him. It’s all arranged to look like suicide and he has the butler’s confession in writing as to his part in the business so there’s no fear we’ll ever hear from him again. Oh, it has all been attended to very tidily, believe me.”

Jane closed her eyes wearily. Tidiness seemed to her the least appropriate adjective for the confusion in her mind, but she felt unequal to the task of sorting it out Jaspar had fired the shot and Clinton was safe upstairs with Nurse and she would not be arrested and—and—She felt the sharp sting of the vinaigrette in her nostrils and opened her eyes to find Aunt Stanier bending anxiously over her, a worried Crews, tray of brandy in hand, beside her.

“Gracious—did I faint? I never faint,” Jane said in surprise.

“Just let me raise your head, dearest, and you’ll take a few sips of this nice brandy and be fine as five pence in a moment. It’s all right, Crews, only reaction to all the excitement She’ll be all right now.”

Crews left, somewhat reluctantly, and Jane sat up, against Lady Stanier’s protests. “Please, Aunt Stanier, I’m truly all right Just let me sit here and I’ll drink the brandy and I want you to tell me, word for word, exactly what Jas—Lord Jaspar said to you from the moment he appeared.”

Lady Stanier obliged her. His story was that he had forced his way into the house, found Leach on the point of attacking Jane, and had shot him. He had then sent Jane away, made his arrangements with the butler and come to fetch Lady Stanier to Jane’s side.

“But how did he know about Clinton and Leach and everything?”

“From Sarah.”

“Sarah?”

“Yes. She came here and was waiting for you to return and found a note to you from Leach that you must have dropped. She questioned Crews and then discovered about the gun—really, the girl has more brains than I’ve given her credit for!—and went straight to Montmorency and sent him after you.”

“Good heavens!” Jane exclaimed faintly.

“Yes, the girl kept her head admirably. Here I’ve always thought she was a complete ninnyhammer. Why, she saved your life!”

“Yes, I must send for her and thank her. Where—why did not he come here with you?”

“He said you would not want him at a time like this, you would want to rest and that I could be more help to you there than he could be. Besides, he knew Sarah would be wild with worry and he felt he should go and reassure her at once. Then there’s his mother, you know. She was thrown from her carriage in an accident and her hip was broken.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why he—why Sarah and I cut short our visit to Larkwoods,” Jane answered, turning away so her unhappiness would not show. For though she was still wildly confused about the nightmarish episode at The Golden Crocodile, one thing stood out clearly—blindingly so. For all his willingness to come to the rescue in time of danger, Jaspar was not eager to expose himself to the danger of an emotionally distraught woman making some sort of claim on him before a female relative. Not if sufficient reasons were at hand to justify his staying away.

All the heart-stopping anxiety of Clinton’s disappearance and rescue had blotted out for a time her previous despair, but now it came rushing back to engulf her, and she sank into it helplessly, her overburdened emotions no longer capable of withstanding against it The tears poured silently down her cheeks. She allowed Lady Stanier to take her to her bed, where she pretended to go to sleep immediately so that she could be alone with her misery, though she was sure she would only toss for hours tormenting herself with recriminations over her behaviour at Larkwoods, or, if she managed to fall asleep, be tortured by nightmares. Nature took charge, however, and she dropped without any awareness into a sleep fathoms deep that held her unmoving for twelve hours.

Her eyelids were only pried apart by the first, tentative fingers of the rising sun the next morning and she stirred stiffly, for a few seconds completely at peace before memory sprang at her. However, body and mind refreshed by her long sleep, she was able to face it without the cringing despair of yesterday and the days before.

There is no point crying about it any more. I gave myself to him without his needing to ask, and I cannot deny my pleasure was at least as great as his. If I am going to behave like a man, taking my pleasures as it pleases me, not only must I be cavalier about it, as men are in like circumstances, but I must expect him to behave just as he has. His declaration of love in the heat of the moment was not meant to be taken seriously. Men quite often, I imagine, say such things at such times to have their way with us. My life, however, will not end because of a disappointment in love. I’m much too healthy to pine away like a lady in a novel. Besides I have my son’s future to think of, and the administration of his estate until he is of an age to take care of it himself. So I will put this behind me. I’ll remove to Larkwoods in a week or so and stay there.

This decision made, she turned her mind to unravelling yesterday’s mystery. In spite of Jaspar’s story to Lady Stanier, Jane
knew
now, in the clear light of a new day with hours of sleep between herself and the event, that
she
had fired the shot that killed Leach. Since she was standing within inches of Leach at the time and the red flower of blood had appeared instantaneously, there was no possible way Jaspar could claim to have shot Leach. Therefore, he was trying to shield her, even from Lady Stanier. It was an unnecessary act of gallantry on his part, for which she would thank him from the bottom of her heart in an unemotional little note, and hold her tongue about the matter to Lady Stanier. Since there was no possibility of either of them having to face charges, there was no point in burdening Aunt Stanier with the truth and perhaps destroying her peace of mind.