Marigold's Marriages (26 page)

Bysshe gazed in dismay. “If he catches them ...”

“He’ll impale them on something sharp,” Perry finished for him.

“They
must
escape,” Marigold whispered.

Bysshe smiled then. “I’ve just thought, if the wren is Jennifer Avenbury, Lord Toby won’t dare kill her because she’s to be Falk’s bride.”

Marigold breathed out with relief. “Yes, of course ...”

But Bysshe lowered his eyes. “Poor Robin Raddock doesn’t have that protection, though, does he?”

Perry caught his mother’s arm. “Come on, we mustn’t stay here.” He led the way through the trees, and at last they reached the lake. Knowing Falk and the others were still on the balcony, Perry took off his robe, shoved it into Bysshe’s hand, then went into the lake. He swam to the skiff, undid the mooring rope, then hauled the little craft ashore and out of sight from the house because of the trees. It swayed as they clambered in, then the boys worked together to pole it away as quickly as they could.

Obeying Rowan’s orders, they kept to the reeds, where the night breeze now seemed to rustle everything more menacingly than on the outward trip. Romans was still clearly visible on its hillside, and Marigold looked back to see that the really high flames had been doused at last, although the remains of the three destroyed carriages still burned. Smoke curled up into the moonlit sky, and every window of the house now seemed to be illuminated as the search continued inside. Suddenly she saw the shrike return to the balcony, where Falk and Alauda now stood alone. Falk took something from the bird’s bill, and Marigold knew it was either Robin or Jenny. Before resuming his normal shape, Sir Toby gave two triumphant cries. Chaek! Chaek!

As Marigold gazed back in dismay, the firefighters at last overwhelmed the flames. The moon slid behind another cloud at the same time, and everything went very dark. She shivered, sensing something was very wrong. Rowan? As his name came to her, she heard a brief exchange of pistol shots. The reports reverberated along the escarpment, then there was silence. She pressed trembling hands to her mouth, and the boys stopped poling. They all listened, praying to hear the thud of hooves as Rowan made his escape, but there was nothing, only their own heartbeats. No one said a word as Bysshe and Perry renewed their poling, and soon Romans slipped from view.

The rest of the return journey took much longer than anticipated, because Perry’s pole snapped and then the skiff got caught up on the reeds, but at last they managed to continue. When they eventually approached the Avenbury jetty, they saw someone waiting with a lantern. It was Beech, and he called out as soon as they were within hearing. “My lord? My lord?”

Perry shouted back. “Lord Avenbury isn’t with us! He’s riding back!”

The butler lowered the lantern unhappily, and as the skiff came alongside, Marigold saw how pale and uneasy his face was. “What is it, Beech?” she asked, as he assisted her from the rocking craft.

“The horses returned riderless about a quarter of an hour ago, my lady.”

Perry looked anxiously at her. “Mama?”

The pistol shots seemed to ring in Marigold’s ears as she glanced back across the dark lake. What had happened? For a few moments she found it hard to think, but then found her wits.

“Beech, I think his lordship must still be at Romans, either injured or held against his will. I want the head keeper—Hazell, is it?— and as many armed men as possible to ride there. Take whatever horses are needed from the stables. Romans belongs to Lord Avenbury, and I believe that legally the tenant cannot refuse access to the landlord’s representatives, even in the middle of the night.”

“Armed
men, my lady?” The butler blanched.

“Yes, Beech. Please do it without delay.”

“Very well, my lady.” He handed the lantern to Bysshe, then hurried away.

Perry came to put his arm around his mother. “It will be all right, Mama.”

“I hope so, Perry, oh, how I hope so,” she whispered.

Hazell and his selected men rode out of Avenbury Park half an hour later, and as the hoofbeats died away into the night, the waiting began. Marigold paced up and down in the great parlor, and the boys sat unhappily on the sofa where earlier she had gazed up so lovingly into Rowan’s eyes. The mantelpiece clock ticked slowly, and chimed every fifteen minutes. Then, just as the sky began to lighten outside, the riders returned. Marigold ran outside, but the face she prayed to see was not there.

Hazell dismounted. “I’m sorry, my lady. We searched every inch of the house, but there was no sign of his lordship. Nor was there any sign of him along the road. I’ve sent two men to look on the escarpment, but Mr. Beech said the riderless horses returned by way of the road, so I don’t expect them to find anything up there.”

“Then where is he?” Marigold cried.

“I cannot say, my lady.” The keeper looked helplessly at her.

“We’ll search the area again in daylight, but I can promise you he isn’t at Romans itself. The tenant offered no objections to a thorough search. If Lord Avenbury is being held there, he is very cunningly concealed indeed. We even searched the cellars and the attics.”

“What about the old tower?” asked Bysshe, as he and Perry joined Marigold.

The keeper’s face changed. “Well, no, but the door didn’t seem to have been opened in a century or more. It was choked over with weeds and ivy.” He looked at Marigold, “Would you like us to return now, my lady?”

She shook her head. “It can wait until tomorrow, Hazell. You and the others must be very tired. Thank you for your help.”

“We’d do anything for Lord Avenbury, my lady,” he replied. Marigold’s eyes filled with tears, and the keeper was bold enough to put a reassuring hand on her arm. “We’ll find him, my lady, make no mistake of that.” Then he turned and led his horse away toward the stables, followed by his companions.

The search recommenced as soon as the sun was up. Hazell and the men started by returning to Romans to search the hunting tower, and—much against Marigold’s wishes—Perry and Bysshe accompanied them. At first she firmly forbade the boys to leave Avenbury Park, fearing that something would happen to them as well, but then Bysshe took her quietly aside to explain that Perry desperately wanted to do something positive to show his liking and admiration for Rowan.

At that, Marigold fought back tears of pride, quelled her inner fears, and gave her permission. She wanted to join the search herself, but thought it best to be at the house should Rowan return somehow. Not that she really thought he would, for her recently acquired and curiously accurate sixth sense told her he was at Romans, either imprisoned, or under Falk’s control.

Throughout the morning the search went on. Falk had made no objection to another inspection of Romans. He and his guests took tea in the orchard, and seemed totally unconcerned as Perry and Bysshe assisted Hazell and the other men to comb the hunting lodge. After that the search widened to the surrounding countryside, which was scoured very thoroughly indeed. The skiff was taken out on the lake, together with several more that were kept in the boathouse, but of Rowan there was no sign at all. He had vanished.

As the hours ticked relentlessly by, Marigold strove to remain calm and composed. She paced up and down in the garden, glancing constantly across the lake or up at the escarpment, praying her sixth sense was wrong, and that at any moment she would see Rowan returning, but he didn’t. The searchers came back to Avenbury Park in the middle of the afternoon for some well-earned refreshment. During the makeshift feast Mrs. Spindle provided in the great hall, Marigold overheard something that confirmed her intuition about Rowan being at Romans.

Everyone was trying to enjoy the excellent cheese, Wiltshire ham, fresh bread, and cider, but few had any real appetite because they were all anxious about Rowan, who was held in very high regard by everyone, from the lowest laborer to a gentleman acquaintance who heard of the strange disappearance while halting at the village inn.

The gallant band of searchers ate as best they could because they knew they must go out again to continue the search, no matter how hopeless an exercise it seemed. To give herself something to do, Marigold helped Mrs. Spindle and the maids serve the cider, and it was while she was doing this that she overheard a conversation between Bysshe and Perry.

Bysshe helped himself to another wedge of cheese, and then mentioned the door in the orchard wall at Romans. “How anyone gets in and out of it, I really don’t know.”

“Well, it must be possible, because Mama said Uncle Falk came out through it,” Perry replied.

“I wouldn’t have thought a man as big and strong as that could squeeze through.”

Curious, Marigold put down the jug of cider she was carrying in order to speak to Bysshe. “Why don’t you think Falk could get through the door?” she asked.

He looked up with a start. “I didn’t know you were listening, my lady.”

“I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Well, it’s just that Perry and I walked around the outside of the orchard this morning with some of the men, and there’s a tree growing so close against the door that it prevents it being opened.”

Marigold stared at him. She and Rowan had gone through that very door last night, and there certainly hadn’t been a tree blocking the way. “What sort of tree was it?” she asked quickly.

They both shrugged, and Perry replied. “I don’t know, we didn’t look. It was just a tree. Not huge like the oak, more the size of an alder, I suppose. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s not important,” she murmured.

Bysshe looked curiously at her.
“Did
Falk Arnold get through?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied in a dismissive tone, then picked up the jug to resume serving the cider. But her thoughts had quickened. There shouldn’t be a tree where the boys said. If there was, it wasn’t an ordinary tree. But before she mentioned anything, she had to see for herself, so she waited until the searchers had sallied forth again, the boys included, then she ordered a horse for herself. After changing into her newly laundered habit, she took Rowan’s pocket telescope from its drawer in the library, then rode out of Avenbury Park.

The earthworks above Romans were deserted as she tethered her horse where she and Rowan had lain together a day or so before. A day or so? Right now it seemed an aeon ago. She crept to the edge of the slope, then lay down to train the telescope on the wall of the orchard.

The door was unobstructed, indeed there wasn’t even a bush to block the way. She searched the entire wall, and then returned her attention to the door. Whatever Perry and Bysshe had seen, it wasn’t there now. She didn’t doubt there’d been a tree, and the fact that it had vanished proved to her that it was a supernatural tree. And what else could it have been but a rowan? But where was he now? Anxiously she raked the house and orchard, but he was nowhere, nor indeed, did she glimpse Falk or Alauda, but some of the others were in evidence in the orchard.

Lord Toby’s exaggerated drawl carried clearly on the warm summer air as he lounged on the grass with Lord Siskin and Judge Grouse, and Sir Hindley Tern’s equally irritating vowels drifted up with similar clarity from inside the summerhouse as he called to the house for another bottle of hock.

Mr. Crowe was seated forlornly on the summerhouse step with a makeshift crutch propped up beside him. The sling on his arm was now accompanied by bandages around his forehead and leg, and he looked very bedraggled indeed, but he received not one iota of sympathy from Marigold, who hoped he was suffering every imaginable discomfort. She wished Lord Toby had suffered a similar tumble during his flight from the balcony, for it would be exquisitely satisfying to see him in the same battered state.

Leaving the small flock at the summerhouse, Marigold moved the telescope toward the house again. A blur of leaves slid before her concentrating eye, but then something made her focus on one apple tree in particular. A gilded birdcage was suspended from a branch, and there was a tiny brown wren fluttering helplessly inside. Jenny! Marigold’s breath caught with dismay as she remembered how Lord Toby had returned to the balcony last night with something in his bill. He had caught Jenny and given her to Falk, but what—if anything—had happened to Robin? Oh, please don’t let him have been caught to suffer the terrible fate all shrikes accorded their prey! The telescope slipped from her fingers onto the grass, and tears stung her eyes.

At that moment, as if on cue, Robin himself landed on the telescope, and cocked his head to look at her. “Oh, Robin!” Marigold whispered gladly, so relieved that more tears pricked her eyes. The little bird chirruped sadly, then hopped onto her finger, as if trying to comfort her. She smiled bravely. “What are we going to do, Robin?”

Robin sighed, his head sinking dejectedly between his wings. Marigold felt at one with him. “How I
wish
you could talk,” she murmured. “The ones we love are down there at Romans, and we have to find a way to rescue them. Or is it just me? Am
I
alone charged with the task?”

As Robin eyed her again, then gave another sad chirrup, she knew that the responsibility did indeed lie with her. “Very well, I accept that it’s up to me, but I still don’t know how to set about the task,” she said, stretching out a finger of her other hand to touch the little bird’s gleaming red breast.

He puffed his feathers, tilted his head to gaze at her with his bright brown eyes, and sang a few notes. Then he repeated the same notes more urgently. She felt helpless. “It’s no good, Robin, I can’t understand your language.” He sighed again, and tilted his head the other way, to look down at Romans. Then he hopped down onto the grass, and huddled dejectedly next to some early harebells that were as blue as the heavens.

After a moment, Marigold resumed her surveillance through the telescope, and suddenly realized Sir Hindley Tern wasn’t alone in the summerhouse, as without warning, Alauda stepped into view. Marigold’s old foe looked ravishingly beautiful in a lime-green silk gown, and the ignominy of the pillowcase was clearly behind her, for she was all smiles as she held out her hand to the man she was with.