Sally James (17 page)

“I do not understand!” Mary protested weakly, and hastily stood up as he bore down on her, reading the intention of executing his threat clear in his eyes.

“Explanations can wait until we are on the road. Come, they cannot have travelled far overnight. Your servant, Mrs Grafton. I will restore Miss Wyndham to you as soon as is possible.”

So saying he caught Mary by the hand, and almost dragged her from the room. The terrified maid, who had obviously been given orders previously, stood trembling in the hall with Mary’s travelling cloak over her arm. Sir Ingram took it with a brief word of thanks, wrapped it round Mary’s shoulders, then once again seized her hand and led her to the waiting curricle.

“I will make your apologies to Mr Knowle,” Caroline said gleefully as she watched this departure, but was certain Mary had not heard her words, and was equally certain she would not have understood their import if she had.

Without pausing, Sir Ingram bent and picked Mary up to fling her unceremoniously into the curricle. He spoke briefly to his groom and another man waiting there, and then leapt up himself, took the reins and set off at a fast trot out of the Square, threading his way skilfully through the traffic towards Lansdown Hill and the road to the north.

Mary waited, fuming inwardly, until they had a clear stretch of road before them, and then spoke scathingly to Sir Ingram.

“Pray allow me to inform you, Sir Ingram, that you are the most overbearing, the most high handed, and the most objectionable man it has been my misfortune to meet!”

He glanced briefly at her, laughter in his eyes.

“That sounds decidedly promising,” he observed calmly.

“What do you mean?” Mary demanded suspiciously, but he did not reply, and after a moment of silence she asked coldly where they were going.

“Matthew hired a coach to take them to Gloucester,” he explained. “I had sent to make enquiries at all the posting inns, and received the information just now. Previously it had been only a suspicion.”

“At what time did they leave?”

“After ten last night, but we cannot be certain as to the exact time. My Aunt Cecy had left Bath earlier that day, and Aunt Hermione thought Teresa was asleep. She did not see her after she herself retired to bed at ten, and it was morning before her maid raised the alarm. Do not worry, though, for they cannot have travelled very fast in the darkness, so even if they did not stop for the night we should overtake them during the day. The chaise Matthew hired was not the speediest of vehicles, either,” he added with a chuckle.

“How do you know that?”

“Well, when I saw your brother the other day, he intimated then that he might remove Teresa from my care. He makes a deplorable schemer, by the way, he is far too honest! So, you see, I had been expecting something of this nature, and had made my plans accordingly. I had er - arrangements with the appropriate people.”

“You mean you bribed them to give Matthew a poor vehicle?” Mary asked bluntly.

Sir Ingram looked at her in amusement. “If you choose so to describe my precautions. I should, incidentally, also have been informed at once, but my bribes, as you would no doubt portray them, do not seem to have been effective. Possibly I gave him too much, for the ostler concerned had imbibed a trifle too freely and was not performing his duties!”

“What do you propose to do when we overtake them? Banish Teresa to one of your country estates?”

“When we overtake them will be the time to determine that. I am concerned first with their safety, rather than preventing this foolish marriage.”

“Are they in danger? Do you believe, truly, that someone is making attacks on Teresa?” Mary asked, perplexed. “Who can it be?”

“If it is not myself?” Sir Ingram said, laughing down at her as he passed a laden chaise coming in the opposite direction with barely an inch to spare. “Tell me, did you really suspect it was I making such ineffectual attempts on her life such as those she described to you when we first met? Come, Miss Wyndham, I do not set out to murder anyone by taking pot shots at them, or loosening their saddle girths! You will wound my vanity if you admit that you think I could be so inept! When I plan a murder, I will do it far more effectively, I do assure you!”

“Of course I do not believe it,” Mary said crossly. “Yet, if there have been attempts on her life, who is it? Who would benefit by Teresa’s death?”

“Have you forgotten that whoever it is would have had to dispose of Mrs Standish too? At least, I would have had to before I could have enjoyed Teresa’s fortune.”

“But she was attacked too, if she really was pushed down the stairs. Yet how could anyone have been in the house? And why kill the parrot?”

“I believe I can guess how she came to fall down the stairs, and how it is connected with the unfortunate bird.”

“You may consider you have solved the mystery, but I am no better informed than I was before!” Mary said angrily.

“My uncle’s will was a dangerous one, but he would not be persuaded into altering it,” Sir Ingram said reflectively. “Not all Teresa’s silliness comes from her mother. He left some capital for Mrs Standish, from which she could have such income as I determined. When she dies that capital reverts freely to Teresa, even if she is then under twenty-five. The rest of his fortune he left in trust for Teresa, again giving me the discretion, along with another trustee, of determining what income she was to enjoy. When she is twenty-five it becomes hers absolutely, but if she dies unmarried before that time it goes, again freely, to Mrs Standish.”

“So Mrs Standish would have some capital, and you think that is a motive for murdering Teresa? Surely you cannot suspect her own mother of such wickedness!”

“It has been known,” Sir Ingram shrugged, “but no, I do not believe Aunt Cecy is wicked - merely foolish. She is being used by someone far more dangerous who would expect to gain control of the money were Teresa to die. And naturally Teresa must not marry or this plan would be foiled, for her husband would inherit.”

“Then she would be
safe
if she married Matthew,” Mary exclaimed, “so why are you so set against it?”

“I have more than her safety to consider. I will confess I did not expect their love to endure. I - at first - distrusted love that seemed to arise within a single hour. Teresa’s affections have been so volatile hitherto that I did not dare allow her to marry until she had proved more steady.” He gave Mary an oddly penetrating glance, but she was staring straight ahead and was unaware of it. “Now I am more convinced of their love, and - I am aware that it is indeed possible to fall suddenly and irrevocably in love.”

“Yes, they seem to have done,” Mary answered slowly. “Will you then permit the marriage?”

“Let us first disentangle the imbroglio they have fallen into,” was all the reply he vouchsafed to that.

Chapter 10

They made excellent time, and with liberally scattered largesse, the changes of horses were swiftly and efficiently made. When they had been travelling for three hours, Sir Ingram called a brief halt while they drank wine and ate a nuncheon of cold meat and cheese.

“Shall we ever catch up with them?” Mary asked, worried they had no news of the fugitives.

“They may have travelled all night,” he reminded her. “If so, we cannot expect to be near them yet.”

The journey, which seemed endless to Mary, continued, and it was several hours later before they had news that a couple answering to the description Sir Ingram had given had passed through and changed horses an hour before.

“There were a proper commotion,” the ostler said slowly, grinning at the recollection. “The young gent wanted to stay ‘ere for ‘is dinner, but the young lady would not, saying she would go on by ‘erself if ‘e insisted, and so, arter a big argy bargy, they both went on. She wanted to change the carriage too, for it were nearly fallin’ apart, but there weren’t none ‘ere, and she ‘ad to make do.”

“We shall soon be upon them,” Sir Ingram said with satisfaction, gathering up the reins and preparing to move off, when Mary clutched at his arm.

“It can’t be! There, in that window to the left, Mrs Standish! Oh, she’s seen me looking and moved away. But why is she here? She is staying with friends!”

“This is an unexpected piece of good fortune. You had best remain here,” Sir Ingram flung over his shoulder as he leapt down from the curricle and strode into the inn. Mary, disregarding his orders, and determined not to be left out of this, jumped down from the curricle and ran after him.

The landlord approached, bowing obsequiously, and rubbing his fat hands together.

“And what may I do for you, Sir?”

Sir Ingram was explaining the location of the room where Mary had seen Mrs Standish at the window.

“We believe it is a friend of ours, but we caught only a glimpse of the lady’s face,” he continued.

“A Mrs Standish,” Mary added.

The landlord looked puzzled. “I have no one of that name here at present,” he apologised, looking distressed that it was beyond his powers to conjure up such a person.

“But I was certain!” Mary exclaimed, and Sir Ingram smiled with grim satisfaction.

“Oh, then no doubt it is our friend’s sister, they are very alike. A Mrs Morris,” he suggested suavely, grasping Mary’s hand in his and giving it a warning squeeze.

“Mrs Morris? Oh, yes indeed! The lady came late last night with her husband,” the landlord informed them, relieved that the mystery had been satisfactorily explained.

“Is Mr Morris here now?”

“No. He had to ride out for a short while, he said, not above an hour since.” Sir Ingram whirled about and ran out of the inn, dragging Mary with him. He picked her up and threw her into the curricle, leapt up himself, and set the horses in motion, almost knocking the ostler who held the reins off his feet. Before Mary had recovered her breath he had swung the curricle recklessly out of the entrance to the inn yard, and was threading his way rapidly and hazardously through the traffic that thronged the main street of the little town.

“What in the world? How did you know that they were married?” Mary demanded when they were once more safely on an almost empty road.

“I did not, but I surmised it. The provisions of my uncle’s will made it likely that some villain would think to gain the money by marrying Aunt Cecy and killing Teresa. Morris must have persuaded Aunt Cecy to keep their marriage a secret to throw off suspicion. He had the opportunities needed to attack Teresa, but he made his mistake when he killed the parrot.”

“I can scarce credit it! Rodney Morris! He is nought but a foppish dandy!”

“He apes the dandy, but you have seen him on a horse. He is much more than he pretends. Did you never suspect him, even in the caves?”

“How did he contrive that?”

“He took Teresa’s hand, as she told us, in the darkness. Only she thought it was Matthew, for he was also near her. He must have felled the guide, and then led Teresa down that small passage. He had been in the caves before, you see, and could have known of that precipice. When I heard her scream I went after them, and as I reached her I felt someone slip past me in the darkness. When the light was brought he was found solicitously bending over the guide, but I knew then who it must have been.”

“You pretended it had been her imagination.”

“I dared not alarm him, for I needed better proof. The parrot provided me with that.”

“How? What has the parrot to do with it?”

“That proved someone was in the house secretly. Who more likely than Aunt Cecy’s husband, visiting her when the rest of the family were out? I suspect Aunt Cecy had just let him in, or was about to let him out, when the parrot made a noise and caused her to lose her step, hence that fall, and in his rage at near discovery Morris killed it. Or the parrot might have learned some incriminating phrase and had to be disposed of.”

Fleetingly Mary recalled the bird’s display on the night of the party. She nodded slowly.

“And now he has followed them. Oh, do hurry!”

“He is an opportunist. He could not have planned the attack in the caves, but must have taken advantage of the fact they reached that spot, in near darkness, with Teresa beside him. Now he has seized another opportunity and followed them. It must have been a surprise to him to see them here. I had not expected him to have come with Aunt Cecy, but thought rather he would have followed them from Bath.”

They raced along for a while, Sir Ingram feathering corners expertly and overtaking all the slower vehicles on the road. After covering several miles, Sir Ingram exclaimed with satisfaction and pointed with his whip. Some distance in front of them a post chaise had overturned and come to rest in the ditch at the side of the road. As they drew nearer they could see it was deserted and a nearside wheel lay a few yards behind the vehicle.

“They will have sought the nearest inn, and as we have not lately passed one, they will have gone forward,” Sir Ingram remarked, sweeping past the wreckage of the chaise.

Sure enough, within half a mile they saw a small hostelry, little more than an ale house, set back amongst the trees. Sir Ingram drew up outside the front door and jumped down, turning to give Mary a hand. She sprang lightly down just as an ancient ostler limped wearily round the corner of the building.

“We be uncommon busy today,” he muttered, but took the reins and led the steaming horses away.

Sir Ingram gave Mary an encouraging smile, but she was so concerned at what they might find, either as a result of the accident, or from the machinations of Mr Morris, that she simply returned the glance with a mute appeal.

Inside the inn the landlord was frantically shouting instructions to his underlings, a clumsy looking youth and a slatternly girl. He turned to greet the newcomers, pushing his none too clean hands through his lank, greasy hair. The grimace he achieved was far from welcoming.

“Have a young lady and a gentleman arrived here from a wrecked chaise?” Sir Ingram demanded.

The landlord glowered at them. “Aye.”

“Are they hurt?” Mary asked anxiously.