Nell (23 page)

‘Yes, you told me. Only you did not say what the dreams were about.’

‘Don’t ’member.’

That road was effectively closed.

Nell judged it time to drop the subject. She wished
she could think how to prevent the child from taking the drug again. Heaven knew what threats had been made to stop her from attempting to sue to her governess for help! But Hetty would be unlikely to remember them. In the grip of fear, would she recall anything other than the so-called demands of her dead mother?

A curious thought struck Nell. Sleeping—or sleepwalking—Hetty was malleable. Awake, she fought back. How had they overcome her resistance? If she was encouraged to follow the ‘ghost’ in her sleep, and now could remember nothing about it, how was it that she had become convinced that her mama was in the castle?

Nell glanced down at the little girl where she sat quietly in the battlement ledge. Henrietta was yawning, her dark head resting against the stonework. She looked like any ordinary weary child, and not in the least like a deranged one. That she believed in the presence of her deceased mother had no bearing on the case. Any child might be persuaded to believe such a thing. Only how?

Hearsay was not evidence. No amount of telling would serve with children, as Nell well knew. They must be shown before they would accept. Could it be that the ‘apparition’ that had called to Hetty in the corridor last night had come to her while she was awake? Nell could easily picture just such a possibility. If the child woke up to find that ghostly
thing
apparently floating by her bed, would it not be enough to throw her into shrieking hysterics? And having set the household by the ears, why should the thing not vanish into some hidden recess and await its moment to escape unseen? Just as someone had done that day when Nell had herself been lured into Lady Jarrow’s room by the playing of the clavichord.

‘Are we wishful to fall off the roof, Miss Hetty?’

Duggan’s shrill tone startled Nell quite as much as it
did the child. Without thought, she caught at the little girl and pulled her up from where she sat, holding her against her petticoats as the nurse came up. She attacked Nell forthwith.

‘No concern of yours if we come to grief, is it, miss?’

Nell snapped. ‘Don’t be stupid! Hetty was perfectly safe.’

‘Oh, was she now? And who’s to say we wouldn’t up and jump before you could stop us? You know well we ain’t right in our mind and can’t be trusted to do as others might.’

‘Be quiet!’ ordered Nell, low-voiced. ‘If that is how you speak in front of—’

‘Come, Miss Hetty,’ interrupted the woman, ignoring her and seizing the child by the arm, ‘it’s time and past we was having our nap. We’ll get a bite to eat and then it’s off to our bed without no more argy-bargy.’

‘Didn’t argy-bargy!’ protested the child, unwillingly allowing herself to be pulled away from Nell. ‘Want to go to bed. Got a headache.’

‘And why wouldn’t we have an aching head when we do nothing but grump and growl and throw tantrums, eh? Now come along.’

Even had Nell tried, there was little hope of blocking the woman’s flow of complaint. As it was, she was stricken to silence by a realisation. The first time Hetty had broken out screaming in the night—on Nell’s very first evening—Mr Beresford had been in the dining-parlour throughout. When Lord Jarrow had returned, he had stated that Duggan was with the child. Was it then Duggan masquerading as Lady Jarrow’s ghost?

Nell had all along supposed Mr Beresford had been responsible for the tricks played upon her, and upon Hetty. Although it must be Duggan who administered
the drug in the milk—if indeed it was drugged. Only if Duggan had dressed up as the ghost, how had she freed herself from the garments and—

Of course! As if she saw it played out in her mind’s eye, Nell knew how it must have been done. Duggan need not dress up in the clothes. She had only to hang them upon some object—a broomstick, perhaps?—waft it before her, and then wake Hetty. The child would be half asleep, the room dim with the light of a single candle. How would she realise that what she saw was merely an empty gown topped with a mask and wig? And having terrified the little girl into screaming, what need was there for more? Duggan had only to dispose of the thing in some convenient place—under the bed?—and resume her proper role so that Lord Jarrow would discover her there when he came into the room. How simple it was.

Yet the ghost she had seen last night had been solid enough. Inhabited, Nell was convinced, by Bartholomew Beresford. She could not believe that Duggan had the necessary skill to carry off the fraud. Mr Beresford, on the other hand, had proved himself a most accomplished actor.

Recalling the last occasion upon which Hetty had woken in a fit of screaming, Nell remembered that her own door had been locked. How easy for him! He had only to dress up, lock her door, and take himself off to Henrietta’s room. Once the child had been terrified, he might make good his escape before Lord Jarrow could arrive. His own room was next door to Hetty’s. He had no need to hide himself from Duggan. He had only to unlock Nell’s door at his leisure, hoping to bewilder her.

So that she did not unravel his scheme? Or to frighten her into quitting the castle? Like last night’s ghost. A little reflection had told Nell it had been meant for her,
rather than Hetty. The child had been in no real danger from the broken stairwell in the tower, for Beresford must have known Nell would prevent her entry there. Had Duggan led the sleepwalker to Nell’s chamber, leaving Toly Beresford lying in wait?

The sheer cleverness of these proceedings left her breathless. But the wickedness made her ache with distress for the defenceless little victim. Whatever his motive—what
could
he want if it was not the Jarrow Emeralds?—there could be no forgiveness. And no more time! Nell determined to thwart him. And without delay.

The housekeeper was aghast. She sat staring at Nell with horrified eyes, her teacup held between her motionless hands.

‘I have no proof,’ Nell said wryly. ‘It is all supposition.’

Mrs Whyte found her tongue, setting down her cup with a snap that clashed in the saucer. ‘Proof! No, and nor you won’t get it, as clever as they both are! Capering about in the night dressed up like the mistress? He must be all about in his head!’

Of which Nell needed no convincing. Yet it was not insanity that drove Toly Beresford to pose as the ghost of his dead sister. He had a tangible purpose, if only she could put her finger upon it.

‘But you’ve no need of proof with me, ma’am,’ went on the elder woman, ‘for I’ve long suspected him as taking more interest in the little ’un than was warranted. I’d a notion he wanted the child to seem like to her mama, though I couldn’t reason out why—except as it had to be for his own gain—nor how he did it.’

‘Yes, but he didn’t do it, Mrs Whyte,’ argued Nell.

‘He made Duggan do it for him.’

‘Well, as to her, ma’am, she’s no better than she should be, and I’ve known that for a fact any time these two years and more.’

Nell became impatient. ‘I am not concerned with her morals!’

The housekeeper clicked her tongue. ‘Yes, but you can’t deny—though it’s what a body can’t forgive—that it’s why she did it for him.’

‘Is it?’

Mrs Whyte stared. ‘Why else?’

‘I only wish I knew.’

Nell fidgeted absently with the spoon in the sugar bowl, sifting the grains in an aimless fashion. The housekeeper reached out and stayed her hand.

‘You’ve an idea though, haven’t you, my dear?’

‘I thought I had.’ Releasing the spoon, Nell picked up her cup and swallowed another mouthful of the soothing beverage. ‘I was convinced it had to do with the Jarrow Emeralds.’

Mrs Whyte stared. ‘But they were stolen by Lord Nobody.’

‘Yes, so I understand. Besides, Lord Jarrow tells me they were nothing but paste.’

It was evident that this was not news to the housekeeper. ‘I suspicioned as much. Didn’t seem to me as the master would let her flaunt them all round the castle the way she did if they’d been real. Used to wear them all day and half the night, and his lordship said never a word against it.’

A faint tattoo built up in Nell’s veins, and she caught at a random thought at the back of her mind that refused to settle. Was there a clue to be found here?

‘Then that is how Hetty came to see them,’ she said
slowly. ‘She told me that her mama showed them to her, and I took it that it had been only the once.’ Like a lurking cobweb, the thought flittered into sight. ‘Or did she mean that Lady Jarrow showed her where they were hidden?’

The housekeeper’s eyes popped. ‘Lordy, Miss Faraday! Are they wishful for young Hetty to find them?’

Nell frowned, for the thought had fluttered out of reach again. ‘It’s what I had thought. Only it does not make sense. Only consider, Mrs Whyte. Mr Beresford is perfectly aware that the jewels were stolen by Lord Nobody, in which case he either knows they are gone for ever or—’

‘Or he’s already got ahold of them!’ said the housekeeper grimly.

‘Pray hush, Mrs Whyte!’

‘One of us had to say it,’ pursued the other stubbornly.

‘Yes, but—’

‘But nothing! We both know as he’s the one as done it.’

‘But we don’t know if it was deliberate. It might have been an accident.’

The housekeeper looked sceptical, but Nell was thankful that she chose to drop the subject. ‘Well, and you were saying?’

Nell let out a laugh. ‘I have forgotten my train of thought.’ Then it came back again. ‘Yes, I have it. I was going to say that the second possibility is that Mr Beresford, like his lordship, must know the necklace is worthless. In which case, I cannot account for his using Hetty to find it. Unless it is some other jewel altogether. Or perhaps he does not know that the emeralds were copies.’

Mrs Whyte nodded vigorously. ‘He knows all right. If the mistress sold ’em, as I suppose, who do you think did it for her? She can’t have arranged it herself. Setting aside she wouldn’t have the nohow, she’d not the wit to do it with discretion.’

‘There you are, then,’ declared Nell tiredly. ‘We are left with an insoluble enigma.’

The housekeeper lifted the pot and poured more tea into Nell’s cup. Picking it up, she put it into Nell’s hands. There was silence for a space, and Nell sipped at the tea. It was lukewarm, but it had the desired effect. Her pulse began to settle. Yet the niggling idea that would not form still troubled her.

‘Will you tell his lordship?’

She met Mrs Whyte’s penetrating gaze, and sighed deeply. ‘I did. He will not take it seriously. He has his mind on—other matters.’

Nell felt unequal to explaining the ramifications of her relationship with Eden Jarrow, although she could not but suppose that the housekeeper had an inkling that there was something between them. She had hinted as much before this.

‘Well, he’s a deal to think of.’ Mrs Whyte sipped at her tea. ‘Still, there’s one thing I can do.’

‘And what is that, pray?’

‘Why, stop sending milk up for the mite. And if Joyce comes in my kitchen demanding it, I’ll tell her to her face that it’s the master’s orders.’

Nell had to smile. ‘She would not believe you. I am afraid I have given myself away, and she will guess at once that it is my work.’

‘Let her. Nothing she can do, even if she does think it.’

But Mrs Whyte was mistaken, as Nell discovered early upon the following morning. She was in the schoolroom preparing when the outer door crashed open and Lord Jarrow strode in, white-lipped with fury.

T
hrough his black rage, Jarrow saw her only as a symbol of base betrayal. Baffled hurt consumed him. All their dealings would not have made him suppose her capable of an act so detrimental to the mental health of his only child. He could barely get the words out.

‘How could you? How
could
you do this?’

How dared she stare at him with those innocent green eyes? As if she was not well aware of her guilt! Would she now lie, to add fuel to the flames that already wreathed his brain?

‘Of what do you accuse me, sir?’

Jarrow was obliged to muster all his self-control. He could hear the harshness of his breath, the rough tone of his own voice as he tried to speak without blasting her where she stood.

‘After all that has been said between us, to tell Henrietta the truth!’

‘What truth? I don’t understand you.’

Almost he was persuaded by the innocence of her tone. But it would not do. ‘Pray don’t be guileless, Miss Faraday, it does not suit you!’ He flung away, wrenching himself from the sight of her.

Nell stared at his back. What new turn was this? What was she supposed to have done to enrage him so disastrously? Alarm bells began to ring in her head. If Mrs Whyte had carried out her determination about the milk—

Eden had turned again, a look in his eyes of brooding contempt. Nell’s heart plummeted and her mind froze with distress.

‘Well?’

The harsh monosyllable jerked her into retaliation. ‘Well what, sir?’

‘Are you going to explain yourself?’

Nell stiffened involuntarily, hurt pride coming to her rescue. ‘Not until you explain my crime, my lord Jarrow.’

The word struck him to silence. Yet it was a crime. Perhaps she did not see it as such. His anger dulled, leaving him prey to the old cynicism.

‘I suppose you will tell me that you meant it for the best. No doubt you had your reasons. You always do! Will you try to make me believe that you thought it could resolve this ghost business?’

Not much to his surprise, Nell lifted her chin. Defiant to the last! He might have expected it.

‘In this mood, sir, I will not attempt to make you believe anything!’

‘As well! I would not have thought it of you, Nell. No, nor believed it, had I not heard it from Hetty’s own lips.’

Bewilderment slew Nell’s defiance. ‘Hetty spoke to you?’

‘Naturally I went to her the moment Duggan said it. I had little expectation of finding it to be the truth, the more fool I.’

Nell heard it with scant thought of her own alleged involvement. What had they done to Hetty? It must be in retaliation. Heavens, she might have guessed it! Why had she allowed Mrs Whyte to act? But it was too late now for regret. Wholly forgetting Lord Jarrow’s dangerous mood, she approached him with urgency.

‘What was it? What did Duggan tell you?’

Jarrow’s temper flared. ‘As if you didn’t know!’ He seized her shoulders as she reached him, shaking her hard. ‘You fool, Nell! Didn’t I tell you myself that I had kept it from her? She is distraught! I knew how it would be the moment she learned the truth about Julietta’s death. And all she could say was, “Miss Fallyday said it! Miss Fallyday said it!” over and over. And I thought I could trust you!’

He released her, almost flinging her from him. She staggered back, and he half put out a hand. She slapped it away.

‘Don’t touch me!’

There was no room in Nell’s head now for Henrietta’s pain. All that occupied her was the hideous reality that Eden Jarrow accepted this fabrication without question. It did not occur to him that the same creature that gave him the news could have poisoned the child’s mind. Oh, no. With all the evidence against Joyce Duggan and his own heartless brother-in-law, he chose to take his stand against the one person who had his daughter’s interests at heart. Hurt fury washed over her. Her hands were clenched upon the petticoats of her brown calico gown, and her voice shook with effort as she strove for calm.

‘It is obvious, my lord, that we have nothing more to say to each other.’

Jarrow regarded her, prey to a sense of hungry frustration. In the midst of his anger, he discovered in him
self a shocking desire to kiss her with all the violence at his command. He shifted back, but he could not walk away.

‘You have nothing more to say? Have you no explanation, no excuses? Defend yourself, woman, for the Lord’s sake!’

Her voice was ice. ‘Why should I? You are judge and jury, sir, and have condemned me. I repeat, I have nothing to say.’

Jarrow wanted to seize her, and shake her until the teeth rattled in her head. Surely there must be some mitigating circumstance? She could not have meant to hurt Henrietta. A sense of desperation crept into his breast.

‘You must have had a reason! Nell,
tell me
. I can forgive anything, only to know why you would do such a thing.’

He could forgive? Well, she could not. She had done everything in her power to protect his child, and this was his return. And she had been fool enough to believe he was beginning to care for her. Her heart had betrayed her, and she was desolate. She said the only thing appropriate in the circumstances.

‘I believe the time is right for us to part, Lord Jarrow. I will ensure Henrietta is soothed before I go, but—’

It was the ultimate betrayal. Heat flared in Jarrow’s breast and he was no longer master of his tongue. ‘You will go nowhere near the child! Go directly to your chamber and pack your things, if you please. I will arrange for Detling to take you to the coach office.’

Nell heard him almost with indifference. She did not intend to obey him. She could not possibly leave the castle without ensuring that her charge was safely disabused of whatever dread tale had been told to her. She
was certainly leaving—but in her own good time. He need not know it, however. She dropped a stiff curtsy.

‘As your lordship pleases.’

It was the final straw. Jarrow strode furiously to the door and turned there. ‘I will, of course, pay you until the quarter. Keston will give you the money. We will not meet again.’

He was gone. Nell was glad of it, for she knew she could not have contained her spleen had he remained. How dared he reduce her in that dismissive fashion? What, had he kissed a mere governess, and confided his soul to her? And she, fool that she was, had dared to dream of a bridal! She was well served for her foolishness, for Eden assuredly had no use for a female who had neither understanding nor compassion.

Compassion? Nell sat down abruptly, her anger rapidly dissipating. What had she done? That fatal Faraday pride! How the Duck would scold her—and deservedly. She would not have believed she could be so stupidly arrogant, so self-obsessed.

The reversal of feeling left her weak. Had she given her heart only to snatch it away at the first hurdle? And what of Henrietta? The poor child was suffering in shock and despair, while she—whose first concern it should have been!—indulged herself in misplaced self-righteousness.

The thought threw her into realisation. Beresford had acted swiftly! She had been neatly outgeneralled. The man must be desperate to have gone to such lengths to be rid of her. With her sanction, Mrs Whyte had clamped down on the milk, cutting off his route to give Hetty laudanum. He must know it was owing to Nell’s interference. What was she to do now?

She must see Hetty, but that had become secondary.
It was of the first importance now to find out what drove him. But how? From the nagging question that had persisted at the edges of her mind, the answer came. And only one person could help her with it—Henrietta herself.

She found the child sobbing on her bed, deaf to the pleas of the housekeeper, who bustled up the moment she spied Nell entering the room.

‘Thank the Lord, ma’am, for I can’t get a word out of her but that Miss “Fallyday” said it!’ Turning back to the bed, she called over Henrietta’s crying, ‘Give over, Miss Hetty, do! Here’s your Miss Fallyday, she’s here. Only look, child!’

By this time, Nell had reached the other side of the bed. Without further ado, she tugged at Hetty’s shoulders, pulling her face out of the pillows. The sobs were augmented by a protesting shriek.

‘Hetty, you goose, it’s me! Hush, my dear, Nell is here. Do you hear me? It’s Nell.’

She was obliged to repeat herself several times before her words penetrated the frenzied weeping. But at length they did, for Henrietta ceased her lamentations abruptly, jerking her tear-stained face about to look. Nell smiled encouragingly at her.

‘Come, my love, tell Nell all about it.’

Upon which, Hetty uttered a squeak of joy, scrambled up and flung herself into Nell’s arms, bursting out into sobs all over again.

‘Duggy telled me you said it! Duggy said you goned away!’

Over her head Nell exchanged a glance with the startled Mrs Whyte. Question was in the housekeeper’s face. Nell gave her a rueful look, expressive of the current
state of affairs. Mrs Whyte set her arms akimbo, looking extremely pugnacious. Nell thanked heaven she had at least one champion.

She was relieved to find that Hetty had no blame for her. Indeed, it was clear from the first outpourings that the child was more distressed by the intelligence that her governess was going away than by anything other.

Guilt swamped Nell all over again. She had been preparing to desert the child, all on account of her own pride! With a secret riffle of dismay, she heard herself promising that she would not leave Hetty. A mountain loomed before her, if she was to make good the vow. But for the present, there was a more urgent matter demanding her attention.

‘Hetty, what is it that Duggy told you about me? What was it that I said?’

‘Did you said it, Miss Fallyday?’ The child’s black eyes were bleak all at once.

‘I am sure I did not, but I don’t know until you tell me what it is,’ Nell pointed out.

She glanced at the puzzled features of the housekeeper and put a finger lightly to her own lips to engage her silence. Mrs Whyte nodded and turned her attention to the little girl. Henrietta’s pretty features were crumpling.

‘Duggy telled me you said Mama killeded with a gun. That’s why she comed back. Mama cross ’acos Papa killeded her.’

A sharp gasp from the housekeeper brought the child’s head round. She pointed a chubby finger. ‘Whytey knowed it! See, Miss Fallyday.’

‘I did not, indeed!’ protested Mrs Whyte strongly.

‘The idea!’

‘Pray hush!’ begged Nell. She took the child’s hand and held it tight. It would not serve to lie now. The child
was far too intelligent. If it had been needed, here was proof that she was wholly in her wits.

‘My love, it is true that your mama was killed with a gun, but it was an accident. Your papa did not do it. On the contrary, he tried to save her. And I am afraid Duggy lied to you. I did not say it.’

The child frowned. ‘Then why Mama cross? Why she comed back?’

Nell slipped one arm about the child’s shoulders and hugged her. ‘My darling, your mama did not come back. She is peaceful in heaven now. I’m afraid someone has been tricking you.’

In a small voice, Hetty responded. ‘Duggy?’

Nell nodded. ‘And one other. I promise I will tell you all about it later. But you see, my love, I need your help. We must find a way to show your papa that Duggy is bad. Do you agree?’

Hetty needed no urging. ‘Duggy
is
bad. She said you done bad things and Papa don’t like you no more. She said he throwed you out.’

‘I’ll give her bad things!’ threatened the housekeeper
sotto voce
.

Nell frowned her down. ‘Your papa was very cross, because he thought I told you about your mama. But when he sees that he has it wrong, he will change his mind.’

Hetty eyed her doubtfully. ‘Will he like you again?’

‘He does not dislike me now, child. You have been cross with me too, remember. But I believe you have not stopped liking me, all the same.’

It was plain that this view of the matter had weight, for the child began to look more cheerful. ‘Yes, and you cross with me, Miss Fallyday. But you like me?’

‘I like you very much indeed,’ averred Nell, hugging the little girl tightly.

‘I like you, ’acos you like a princess.’

Spying a telltale gleam in the housekeeper’s eye, Nell was obliged to smile. ‘That is praise of no common order I will have you know, Mrs Whyte. Princesses are the be-all and end-all with Hetty.’

She received a grim look in response. ‘Aye, and has this one reckoned on her next move? For I don’t doubt as there are those as think they’ve bested her.’

Recalling the urgency of her need, Nell detached herself from Henrietta and rose from the bed. She spoke with determination. ‘They will find they are mistaken.’

‘What do you mean to do?’

‘That must depend upon whether Hetty can help us.’

The little girl immediately jumped up from the bed and came to her side, slipping one hand into Nell’s. ‘I help you. What you do, Miss Fallyday?’

Nell hesitated. Whatever she did, it must be done quickly. She heard footsteps coming down the hall. Duggan? It was evident that both Mrs Whyte and Hetty had heard them too. It was the housekeeper who acted. She hustled them towards the head of the bed.

‘Quick, get behind the curtains there. I’ll get rid of the wench.’

Without thought, Nell slipped to the back of the four-poster and slid behind it with Henrietta, giving the child’s clutching hand a reassuring squeeze. They were just in time, for someone entered seconds later.

‘Mrs Whyte! What are you doing here?’

‘Checking on your work, my girl,’ came from the housekeeper in an authoritative tone. ‘When was the last time you swept under the bed?’

The nurse broke into instant protest, asserting that Mrs
Whyte had no right to interfere in her domain, to which a heated reply gave the woman to understand that the housekeeper considered no area of the house to be outside her jurisdiction when it came to cleanliness. The argument raged for several moments, but Nell gave it scant attention. It had occurred to her that there was adequate room behind this bed for a man to conceal himself.