Strangers at Dawn (40 page)

To take her mind off that horrible thought, she concentrated on her surroundings, and her eyes narrowed against the light of the two flickering candles that were set at either end of the altar. Between the candles, there were two miniature portraits on stands, and though she was too far away to make them out clearly, she knew well enough whose portraits they were. The room smelled of incense and roses.

This wasn’t a chapel; it was a shrine.

There was a step at the door and quelling every emotion but her will to survive, Sara lowered her chin to her chest and deliberately relaxed her cramping muscles in an effort to appear completely inert.

There were two of them. One voice, she expected to hear, Lady Neville’s. But the man was not Sir Ivor. Then he could only be Lady Neville’s footman, Beckett.

“How hard did you hit her?” asked Lady Neville.

“Harder than I wanted to. I had to. She fought like a tigress.”

“Did she see you?”

“Does it matter? Her companion didn’t see me, so you need not be afraid that we’ve been discovered. Anyway, it will be
all
over soon. All I need is five minutes alone with her and she’ll tell me what we want to know. Afterwards you can do with her as you like, just as long as I get my money.”

“Five minutes alone with her?” Lady Neville giggled. “Beckett, you must think I’m a fool. If I give you five minutes alone with her, you’ll ravish her. Only it’s impossible to ravish Sara Carstairs. She’s a whore. She took her first lover when she was twelve years old. She’s insatiable.”

Beckett laughed. “I think I may be next on her list. The looks she gave me at the fair! If Constance hadn’t been there, I’m sure I would be sharing Sara Carstairs’s bed by now.”

“Lord Maxwell,” said Lady Neville tartly, “might have something to say about that.”

“You think he loves her?”

“Hardly. Mark my words, this is a trumped-up marriage. Once Lord Maxwell gets his story, he’ll have no use for Sara Carstairs, and he’ll soon get out of this make-believe marriage. All I meant was that he won’t let anyone else get too close to her.”

“So we’re
all
after the same thing!”

“Of course. But if you want your reward, we’ll have to find William’s remains first.” She sighed. “I always thought we’d find him in the dower house.”

“So did I, especially after she had workmen take out those huge beams. Lord Maxwell must have had the same idea. He arrived first, and I had to clear out in a hurry.”

“And you’re sure William’s remains aren’t there?”

“I already told you, I heard her talking to Lord Maxwell’s man before I grabbed her. She didn’t lead them to William’s remains. There’s only one way to find out where William’s body is, and that’s to make her talk. As I said, give me five minutes alone with her, and she’ll be only too happy to tell me.”

Lady Neville’s voice was alight with amusement. “You’ll have your time alone with her
after
she tells us what we want to know. Do you understand?”

“I can wait.”

“See that you do.”

Sara felt as though she’d swallowed a huge ball of chicken fat. She could feel the oiliness in her throat as it went down, and her stomach began to heave. She couldn’t stop herself from moaning.

“Well, at least we know she’s alive,” said Lady Neville in the same amused tone. She twitched her skirts as she approached Sara. “You should have been more patient, Beckett. You were supposed to wait till Sir Ivor was away from home before you brought her here.”

“That was your idea, not mine. It’s hard to get near her now, she’s so well guarded. I saw my chance and took it. Besides, Sir Ivor won’t disturb us. Little Jenny will keep him occupied.”

“That’s enough, Beckett! You will always speak of Sir Ivor with respect. Do you understand?”

The footman turned sullen. “Well, what are you waiting for? Bring her round.”

Sara caught the fragrance of roses on Lady Neville’s
clothes and braced for what she guessed was coming. The next instant, she was coughing and sputtering as she inhaled from an opened bottle of larkshorn. Tears started in her eyes and she strained away from the violently acrid odor. Lady Neville said nothing but she kept the bottle close to Sara’s nose till she was satisfied that Sara was fully conscious. Only then did she take a step back.

Tears streamed down Sara’s face and she sucked great drafts of air into her lungs. Her whole body was trembling uncontrollably, and she tried to master her fear. No one was coming to help her; no one knew where she was. She was at the mercy of a woman who truly believed she’d murdered her son, and a man who had the morals of a tomcat. She did not know which one she feared more.

Stay calm! Stay calm!

She looked at her abductors. The footman was in black livery; Lady Neville was in her nightclothes. Her negligee was a girlish pink confection that made her look clownish, not younger.

“Lady Neville!” The tremor in Sara’s voice wasn’t all playacting. She looked down at her bonds, gasped, and began to struggle. “Why am I here? What is the meaning of this?”

She didn’t see it coming, but she should have been prepared. Lady Neville suddenly lashed out with her hand and struck Sara full across the face. She would have struck Sara again if the footman hadn’t intervened. He grasped Lady Neville’s wrist and dragged her away.

Sara was rigid with shock and pain. But the slap had done more than make her sick with pain. It doused her panic. If she was ever to get out of her alive, she would have to keep her wits about her.

“Get hold of yourself,” gritted Beckett. He stood between Lady Neville and Sara. “If she faints on us again, how will that help us?”

“She killed my son!” Lady Neville dashed a hand across her eyes. “She killed my son!”

“I was acquitted of his murder,” Sara cried out.

Lady Neville let out a hissing sound. “Only because William’s body was never found.” She dragged herself from her footman’s grasp, walked to the altar and returned with one of the miniature portraits. “Look at him!” she commanded, her voice cracking.

Sara looked into the face of William Neville, a younger William than she had known. His thin face was framed with dark curls. His lips were full and turned up in a smile. No one would have known, looking at that charming expression, of the cruelty that lurked beneath the surface.

She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but-”

Lady Neville stamped her foot. “Don’t lie! It had to be you! I waited up for him that night, but he did not come home.” Her face was sharp with malice. “You didn’t know that, did you, that William still came to see his mother? He was everything to me, and I to him. He told me all about you and how mean you were with money. But I was never mean to him. I always gave him whatever I could spare. And it was so unjust. The money belonged to him. He would never have married beneath him if you hadn’t turned his father against him.”

This portrait of domestic bliss explained a great deal about William’s character, but Sara did not dwell on that. “I turned Sir Ivor against William? How could I do that?”

Lady Neville’s voice lashed out like a whip. “By telling lies about him. You spread rumors about him. You said he raped his own sister. And when Sir Ivor heard about it, he disowned William. But it was all your doing.”

“Caroline?” Sara felt as though she’d stepped off the earth and was being sucked into a void. Her eyes darted to the altar, to the portrait of Caroline. Was Caroline the local girl William had deserted? As from a great distance, she heard her own voice say, “Did Caroline say that William had raped her?”.

“She was dead, wasn’t she? Oh, you were clever. You
waited until she was in her grave before you started spreading those vile rumors.”

Sara looked into those pale, venomous eyes and knew that no explanation of hers would be accepted. Lady Neville’s hatred was so intense it was palpable.

The footman was becoming restive. “This is getting us nowhere. I haven’t planned and schemed just to listen to family history. I want that reward, and the sooner we learn where William’s body is, the sooner I can claim it.”

Lady Neville did not answer. She replaced William’s portrait on the altar, kissed it, and the other one, then came to stand directly in front of Sara.
“I
have prayed for this day for so long,” she said. “When you went away, I was distraught. I thought I would never see you again. But I found a way to bring you home, didn’t I, Sara?”

The words came automatically. “You sent me those notes in William’s hand.”

A brilliant smile. “But of course. Then Beckett and I waited patiently for your return so that you could lead us to William. Beckett said that you would want to make sure that William was dead. But you didn’t lead us to my son’s grave, so we decided something more drastic was required. And here we are.”

Panic began to soar in Sara again. With her hands and legs bound, she was helpless to defend herself. She wondered wildly if she should scream. She’d learned from their conversation that Sir Ivor was home and there were bound to be servants. But this manor was as big as a small castle. She doubted if anyone was still awake, and even if she screamed and someone heard her, how would they find her?

She looked at Lady Neville. Even if she knew where William’s body was, she did not think that would save her. She was looking into a child’s face, a cruel child who cared nothing for justice except as it applied to herself.

“Oh, Max,” she sobbed, so softly, it was almost inaudible.

But Lady Neville heard and pounced. “Oh yes, let’s not forget your dear husband. You thought you were so clever, snaring Lord Maxwell. Did you really think that the Worthes of Lyndhurst would accept you as their daughter-in-law? Lord Maxwell was using you. He is the owner and publisher of the
Courier.
All
he wants is a story for his newspaper. That’s what he told Sir Ivor. Lord Maxwell wouldn’t marry you, a brewer’s daughter! Time will prove me right.”

Sara discarded most of this little speech as the ravings of a deranged woman. The pain of losing a son had festered inside Lady Neville and affected her mind. She was unpredictable and out of control.

She looked at the footman. He was staring at her with an enigmatic smile on his face. Her fingers curled around the arms of the chair. “Think before you do anything stupid,” she said to him. There was a plea in her voice. “Lord Maxwell isn’t a fool. He’ll figure out that you had something to do with my abduction. And if it’s money you want, I have money in plenty.
I’ll
give you the reward if you let me go.”

“No!” The cry came from Lady Neville.

Beckett’s smile showed a flash of white teeth. “Don’t worry! I’m not such a fool. I know
all
about ladies and how they keep their promises.”

Sara cried, “Is money so important to you?”

The smile instantly turned into a sneer. “Spoken like at true lady,” he said. “What do you and your kind know about a life in service? You’ve never done a day’s work in your life.”

His head descended, and Sara could see the fury burning in his eyes. She tried to strain away, and her spine flattened against the back of the chair.

“I make thirty pounds a year,” he said. “Thirty! And most footmen make only half that amount. We’re as good as the people we serve, but they treat their dogs better than
they treat us. Well, I’m ambitious. I have plans for my life, and the reward will set me up very nicely.”

Sara gasped when he framed her face with his hands.

“That’s right,” he said, “you would do well to fear me. I shall be very upset, you see, if I don’t claim that reward. In fact, I’ve set my heart on it. And I’ve got a terrible temper. There’s no saying what I’ll do if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”

“What Beckett means,” said Lady Neville, “is that he’ll kill you if you don’t tell us where William is, but if you do tell us, we’ll let you go. Oh, I know you can’t be tried for murder again, but the world will know that you killed my son. So you see, Miss Carstairs, you’re going to pay for your crime, one way or another.”

“I can’t tell you where William’s body is,” Sara cried out, “because-” She looked first at one hard face, then the other, and knew the truth would not save her. “Because …” she faltered, then went on, “you’ll never find it. I’ll have to take you there.”

“She’s lying,” hissed Lady’ Neville. “She’s playing for time.”

“Let her finish. Go on. Tell me where it is, and I’ll decide whether you’re lying or not. And if you are, God help you.”

The words came more easily now, because Peter Fallon had been speculating on where William’s body might be hidden when they were attacked by Beckett. “It’s on the downs, in one of those old Saxon fortifications that looks down on Longfield. But you’ll never find it. It’s covered over with brambles and briers. The constables didn’t find it, because no one knows about it but me. I found it when I was a child and made it my secret hiding place.”

Lady Neville’s face twisted with grief and fury. “And that’s where you met William that night! You lured him there, then you killed him.”

She took a quick step toward Sara, but once again, Beckett intervened. “If you hurt her,” he bit out, “we’ll never find your son’s body.” He looked at Sara. “I don’t believe you. You’ve been twice to the dower house in the middle of the night. The first time, I followed you. After that, I knew you’d go back there. I’ve been waiting night after night for you to try again. If William’s body isn’t in the dower house, it’s somewhere close by. And the dower house is nowhere near the downs. It’s in the opposite direction.”

Sara’s brain had never worked faster. “It was a ploy. To make sure that I wasn’t followed. Do you think I’m such a fool that I wouldn’t test the waters first? But both times, I was foiled. And wasn’t William’s horse found on the downs? That’s where he is, I tell you.”

A look passed between mistress and servant, and after a moment, Lady Neville nodded. She let out a pent-up breath. “I’ll wait here for you. But just remember who is paying you the reward. If you don’t find William’s remains, you’ll get nothing out of Sir Ivor.”