Nell (14 page)

There was room for no more. A sudden grip upon her shoulders made her jump with shock. And then she was being tugged back, and a man’s arms were encircling her, holding her hard against a firm chest. She could feel warm breath upon her neck, and a voice spoke intimately close to her ear.

‘Can it be that you are intent upon suicide, Miss Faraday?’

The soft tones were far from those she had half expected to hear. Next instant, a coarse guffaw nearly shattered her eardrum. She grasped at the encircling arms and tried to wrench them away.

‘How dare you, Mr Beresford? Let me go!’

But his grip rather tightened. ‘By no means, m’dear. Leave off such a cosy armful? I’d prefer to be shot!’

Nell twisted her head away from the heat of his cheek, which he was trying to lay against her own. She wasted no more words, but releasing her hold on his arms, she instead clutched her petticoats, lifting them to free her foot. Then she kicked hard with her heel, backwards against his shin.

His yelp gave her a good deal of satisfaction, and his hold loosened sufficiently to enable Nell to tear herself away. She turned on him in fury.

‘You chose the wrong woman for your advances, Mr Beresford! I have been well trained in prevention.’

He laughed wildly, the glitter of his wide-eyed stare visible even in the half-light. ‘I should say you have, by Jove! Fairly broke my leg.’

One hand went down to rub at his shin, and Nell was torn between triumph and a sliver of guilt. ‘I am sorry
if I hurt you, sir, but it is your own fault. What in the world possessed you to seize hold of me in that fashion?’

A flash of teeth showed as he gave out another of his odd laughs. ‘Thought you were meaning to do away with yourself.’

Nell dismissed this out of hand. ‘Don’t be absurd! Why should I do anything so extremely foolish?’

‘I could hazard a guess, only I don’t want to draw your fire again.’

‘Keep your distance, sir, and you won’t.’

But he shifted a step closer. Nell drew back, noting the disorder of his white cravat and the undone buttons at the top of his grey waistcoat. She wondered briefly if he had been drinking to excess. His words effectually drove the thought out of her head.

‘Eden’s a lost cause, y’know. Can’t help feeling sorry for the fellow, but I know you females. A man’s only got to exhibit a thorny past and you’re all over him!’

Nell stiffened. ‘I beg you will not jump to conclusions, Mr Beresford. Remember that I am the governess.’

‘I don’t forget it. But you’re a comely piece for all that. I’d try my luck given half a chance.’ He must have seen Nell’s reaction for he threw up his hands in surrender. ‘Never fear, I’ve got the message. Trouble is, Miss Faraday, we’ve both been starved of feminine company for so long, you can’t truly blame us.’

‘On the contrary, sir, I blame you very much indeed. An honourable man would not attempt to compromise a female in my situation.’

Again he laughed, but the sound was ugly. There was a twist to his features, not wholly a smile. Nell found it excessively unpleasant.

‘I’ll warrant you wouldn’t say so if it were Eden standing here!’

Nell closed her lips firmly. She could neither rebut him nor confound him. Better to hold her peace.

The sneer increased, shifting into his voice. ‘I hope it’s set down somewhere that I did try to warn you. M’sister ruined the poor fellow for any other woman. He won’t forget and he can’t forgive. You won’t change him, so don’t think it. You might say he’s cursed. Add to that the suspicion of murder, and there you have Eden Jarrow. If you take my advice, Miss Faraday, you’ll get yourself out of his clutches before it’s too late.’

The horror that was seeping into Nell’s brain held her silent for a moment. She could no longer doubt what her senses had been telling her. The Duck’s teachings were overthrown. She had no hard facts, no evidence. But nothing in the world would induce her to believe otherwise than that Mr Bartholomew Beresford wanted her out of Castle Jarrow. And he would go to any lengths to achieve his objective.

She had no words. The man radiated so much danger that her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Her eyes never left him, and she kept her back to the battlements as she gathered up her candlestick. Edging past him, she made steadily for the turret, keeping him in her sights. He made no move to follow her, and Nell turned, walking as quickly as she could without putting out the light of her candle. Reaching the turret door, she opened it thankfully and stepped inside—and almost into emptiness.

By a miracle, she managed to fling herself back against the wall. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in that she had mistaken the way. She was in the wrong tower!

She had retained her clutch on the candlestick, but the flame was shifting madly from the trembling of her hand.
Nell tried to hold it steadier, peering about. She was on a stone stairway, but the central wall had long since crumbled away. There was no possible way she could descend! She must go back.

Even as she turned to find the door that had closed behind her, she heard the scrape of a key turning in the lock. The implication froze her to the wall. Terror gave her voice.

‘Mr Beresford! Open the door!’

Pushing her numb legs upwards, she managed the two steps. Then she hammered on the door with one clenched fist.

‘Mr Beresford! Mr Beresford!’

There was no response. Only silence. She listened, one ear glued to the door. Was he still there? Had he heard her, and was capable of standing there, listening to her frantic cries and refusing to help her? Heavens, was the man mad? How could he serve her so?

A series of little images, like the clues of a puzzle, came flittering into her mind and coalesced into a horrid certainty. The Beresford taint! It was in the wide-eyed stare, the senseless guffaws, and the cunning of his conversation. And it was the more dangerous for being hidden under the plausible exterior.

Nell softened her voice. ‘Mr Beresford? Are you there? Pray let me out! This is beyond a joke, sir. Come, that is enough now. Open the door, if you please.’

No response. She tried the door, and the latch gave. Her heart jumping, she pulled it cautiously inwards. Then she stepped out again into the night.

There was no sign of Toly Beresford. Thankfully, Nell shut the turret door, and moved quickly away to lean against the battlements, catching her breath. The oddity of the event beat at her brain. Had she imagined that
locked door? Now that it was over, she could no longer be sure that she had truly heard the scrape of a key. Nor was she any longer certain of her conviction that Mr Beresford was a trifle mad.

What was certain was the disorder of her nerves! If he had done it, it must be in an attempt to hasten her departure. Yes, that much must be true. He wanted her out, and it must then have been he who had lured her into Lady Jarrow’s room with a tune on the clavichord. Which meant that he was indeed spying upon her. Had he not followed her up on to the roof? How many times had she been the object of his unseen eyes, watching where she might go? Could he have listened to enough of her conversations with Lord Jarrow to be accusing her of having developed a
tendre
? For that was what he had meant.

Nell could not accuse herself of showing her partiality in Mr Beresford’s company. So he must have learned of it by other means. Only how? He had not been in the castle that night when she had encountered Lord Jarrow on the roof. Honesty compelled her to admit that, had he seen and heard her then, he could have room for his suspicion.

And today, in Lady Jarrow’s bedchamber—if it was indeed he who had brought her there—what should stop him returning to listen to what passed within the room? Heavens, there must have been endless opportunity!

Distressed, she hurried along the roof walkway, seeing with relief the windows in the schoolroom turret spaces. How could she have been so foolish as to enter the wrong tower? So much for Helen Faraday’s famous sang-froid!

Thoroughly ruffled, she hastened to her bedchamber and prepared herself for bed with fingers that were far
from steady. Before getting into the big four-poster, she took the precaution of locking her bedchamber door. But she had only been between sheets for a few moments when she remembered Henrietta. If the child walked in her sleep again, she must not find the way to her governess barred.

She slept only fitfully, waking in spurts to the conviction that someone stood without the chamber, listening to her breathing. No amount of self-chiding served to lessen her fear, and she welcomed the grey light of morning with heartfelt relief.

So bizarre had been the happenings of yesterday and last night that Nell felt distinctly out of place to be teaching her charge just as if nothing had occurred. Hetty was in a malleable frame of mind for once, behaving quite like a normal child. Even Duggan, who remained only a short time in the morning, was bent upon being pleasant. She greeted Nell with a modicum of unusual warmth, and had a word of praise for Henrietta.

‘We’re all bright and shining today, miss. We’ve had a good breakfast, and we’re ready to get some learning into our tricksy head, aren’t we, Miss Hetty?’

Nell began to feel disorientated, as if she was out of step with the world. So much so that doubt about what had happened last night set in. Had she dreamed the whole?

She waited only until Henrietta had been taken away by her nurse before stepping out on to the roof. A weak sun had succeeded the dull aftermath of the rain, and the air felt a degree less penetrating. Nell was relieved, for in the oddity of her mood she had forgotten her shawl.

With deliberation—and not a little trepidation—she made her way down the same walkway, heading for the
tower at the front. The whole aspect was different by daylight. The walkway seemed wider, and the squat tower bore no threat. She gained the door in a matter of moments.

Her fingers quivered as she reached for the handle, grasping the fullness of her brown petticoats in one hand to hold them out of the way. Nell drew a breath. Come, there could be nothing to frighten her now. She had half expected to find the door locked, but it opened readily.

Within, she could now see that the winding stair was intact. It was only the inner wall that was severely eroded. The black hole down the centre of the tower yawned wide. Nell wondered what its use could have been in the old days. A chimney? Or perhaps a more gruesome purpose—the disposal of one’s enemies. Had she fallen last night, would anyone ever have found her down there?

Hasty footsteps behind her impinged upon her consciousness. Next instant, her wrist was seized and she was pulled sharply back. The door slammed shut, and Lord Jarrow released her. The dark eyes were fierce. But not, she noted with a leap at her pulse, with anger.

‘What the devil are you doing, Nell? This stair is dangerous!’

She nodded. ‘Yes, so I had ascertained.’

He was passing a hand over the keyhole. ‘We keep it locked. Who opened the damned thing?’ His glance came back to her. ‘Was it you?’

Nell uttered a startled laugh. ‘Why would I do such a thing?’

‘For the same impossible reason, I imagine, that you were examining it with interest.’

‘You are mistaken, sir.’ She debated what she should tell him, and shrunk from the complication of the truth.
She prevaricated. ‘The case is that I was up here last night and lost my bearings. I went in through that door by mistake, and nearly lost my footing.’

His features paled. ‘You could have been killed!’

There was a rough quality to his voice that could not but send a thrill down her veins. It was a balm that she had the utmost difficulty in seeing for what it was. A natural reaction to the thought of one of his dependents coming to grief in such a fashion. She forced a smile.

‘Well, thankfully I was able to stop myself in time.’

Jarrow could not take this light view of the matter. His mouth was dry, and a burden of dread sat heavily in his chest. He ought to send her packing! Not, the Lord knew, because he wanted her gone, but for her own safety. Why she had become a target, he could not fathom. Unless the same inconsequential mind that plagued his existence sought its strange pleasures in her discomposure. He became aware of a question in her face.

‘I wish I knew what to do for the best.’

‘In what regard, my lord?’

He had been unaware of speaking aloud, but the answer came readily. ‘About you, Miss Faraday.’

Her eyes shadowed. ‘Why should you do anything?’

Jarrow noted the deepening voice and knew he had distressed her. He put out a hand. ‘It is not for what you have done. Far from it. I believe I could not have chosen better. Only I am not sure I can reconcile it with my conscience to allow you to stay.’

She did not flinch, but a spark flickered in her eye and her head came up. ‘And what will you do if I go? Hire another governess?
If
you can find one who will tolerate the peculiar habits obtaining in this household.’

He was obliged to smile. ‘There you have me.’

Nell was conscious of a sensation of melting within, and had to turn away. She shifted to the battlements and looked out through a recess, gazing upon the vast expanse of the forest, seeing it but vaguely. For the most part, it lay out of the way of the struggling sun, presenting a dark mass. She tried to speak coolly.

‘Believe me, I have seriously considered the question. Indeed, it was for that I came up here last night.’

‘To think? Yes, there is a sense of tranquillity here that one finds nowhere else, I grant you.’ She did not reply, and Jarrow felt compelled to probe further. ‘What was the result of your deliberations?’

Her head turned, and a shaft of sunlight, escaping from the clouds, caught at the golden tresses piled up behind. Jarrow experienced an abrupt longing to see them loose, tumbling about her shoulders. His fingers itched to touch the stray strands that escaped unbidden from confinement.

She was watching him, and he hastily thrust the thoughts away.

‘You were saying?’

‘I did not speak.’

Jarrow cleared his throat of an unaccountable obstruction. ‘You were going to answer me, I thought.’