Strangers at Dawn (43 page)

With a savage oath, Sir Ivor jumped to his feet. “You stupid cow!” he roared. “You have sent me to the gallows!”

When Sir Ivor started toward Lady Neville, Max quickly intervened and dragged him back. “Stupid cow!” Sir Ivor yelled, struggling against Max’s hold. “Can’t you see what you’ve done? She was the one person I feared. I didn’t want
her to come back here, asking questions, stirring things up. I was safe just as long as she stayed away.”

There was an appalled silence.

Sir Ivor came to himself with a start. He was appalled, too. He was frozen, his face haggard. After a moment, he shook his head and let out a long breath.

Lady Neville’s voice verged on the hysterical. “Why are you saying these things, Ivor? That woman killed William. Sara Carstairs. Everyone knows it. No one will ever make me believe that she didn’t do it.”

Sir Ivor looked at the constable. “My son’s body is exactly where Lord Maxwell says it is, right under our feet. If you depress the first brick on the left, then the fourth brick from it, a trapdoor will open behind that basket of logs. I confess to the murder of my son. He was a wastrel and a ne’er-do-well. We quarreled. I hit him. And that’s all I’m going to say. Now get me out of here before I’m forced to listen to another word from that stupid cow.”

“You’re giving me permission to search your house?” asked the constable.

“Yes! Get on with it! Just get me out of here!”

Constable Evens called in two men whom he’d brought with him and told them to take Sir Ivor outside and wait.

Lady Neville had covered her face with her hands and was weeping copiously. “It’s not true,” she sobbed. “Sir Ivor loved William. It’s that woman’s fault. She must have bewitched him. He’s taking the blame for her, don’t you see?”

She was still rambling in this vein when the constable emerged from the priest’s hole under the hearth. “He’s there,” he said, “or what’s left of him. I found this watch. It’s engraved on the back with the name ‘William Neville.’”

“Let’s go home,” said Max, and he held out his hand to Sara.

Twenty-six

L
ONGFIELD
WAS ABLAZE WITH LIGHTS WHEN
Sara and Max arrived home. She was riding pillion on Arrogance, and the moment her feet touched the ground, she picked up her skirts and began to run. The Great Hall was bustling with people, and when she entered, a hush gradually descended. Then suddenly, everyone began to cheer.

Sara searched the sea of faces until she found the person she wanted. Anne had a platter of sandwiches in her hands. She put the platter down and, with a little cry began to push her way through the crush of servants and searchers toward Sara. Laughing and crying together, they fell into each other’s arms.

Finally, Sara held Anne away from her. “Listen to me, darling,” she said. “William’s body has been found. His father has been arrested for his murder. Do you understand? William’s body has been found. It was under the fireplace in Sir Ivor’s library. All these years, William’s body has been in Sir Ivor’s house.”

Anne looked stunned. As Sara’s words finally registered, however, she put her hands over her face and began to weep. Constance came up to them at that moment, with
Martin only a pace behind her. They both looked ravaged with grief.

“Oh, Sara, can you ever forgive me?” Constance whispered brokenly.

Sara knew, then, exactly how Beckett had got into the house and left the note on her dressing table. She held out her arms. Constance walked into them and held on tight. “Thank God you’re safe,” Constance sobbed out. “Thank. God!”

They clung together, Sara, Anne, Constance, and Martin, then they broke apart with teary smiles. Sara looked around and saw Max watching her. She put out her hand, and he came to her at once.

During the next hour, Sara had to repeat her story over and over again, first to her family, then to Peter Fallon, who had heard the commotion in the Great Hall and refused to go back to bed until he’d heard how it had
all
turned out. Finally, she had to go through her story again when Simon arrived home with Magistrate Orr and the constable.

They met in Peter Fallon’s office, with Drew Primrose present as her attorney. Max handed round brandy before they began. The magistrate, who was new to the area, had a sad face and a sad smile, which, oddly, had a soothing effect on all present. Most of the time he listened.

When Sara had told him all that she knew, he said, “What puzzles me is how you came to believe that Sir Ivor was the murderer.”

“I didn’t see it at first,” Sara said, “because I couldn’t think of a motive. It was something Beckett said that made me sick to my stomach, but I was too panic-stricken to think about it until later. Beckett said that Sir Ivor wouldn’t interrupt us because little Jenny would keep him occupied. My imagination took over and I thought to myself that if William had known about little Jenny, or others like her, he would have blackmailed his father, and he’d keep on blackmailing him until he tried it once too often.” She took
a sip of brandy as her fingers began to tremble. “Then I thought about William’s sister. It was all guesswork on my part. I don’t even know whether it’s true or not.”

A look passed between Constable Evans and Magistrate Orr. Finally, the magistrate said, “We found Jenny. She’s only twelve years old. Your conjecture in this instance was right.”

“Not only in this instance, sir,” said Constable Evans. “We’ve had complaints about Sir Ivor these many years, but there was nothing we could do about them because we had no proof.”

Sara said, “I bet William had proof. Maybe not about the others, but about his own sister. That’s something that Sir Ivor wouldn’t want to come to light-that he’d raped his own daughter!”

A look of pain crossed Sara’s face and Max said roughly, “Can’t this wait till tomorrow, gentlemen? My wife is on the point of collapse.”

“No, wait,” said Sara. “I want to hear what Lady Neville and Beckett are saying.”

“Lady Neville,” said Magistrate Orr, “is still insisting that you murdered her son. Even her husband’s confession has no effect on her. As for Beckett, now that he knows he has no powerful friends to help him, he’s singing like a bird. He insists he was just following Lady Neville’s orders. He’s been looking for William’s remains ever since she took him on as a footman. And when he did not find them, they decided to lure you back to Longfield. They were hoping you would lead them to William.”

The magistrate looked at Max. “Your arrival on the scene upset their plans. Beckett was afraid you’d find William’s remains before he did, so he decided to hasten things along by abducting your wife.”

Drew said, “I wonder if Beckett was the trespasser who broke into the dower house.”

“He admits,” said the magistrate, “that he’d gone over it a score of times, trying to find a secret chamber, and had
found nothing. He became even more convinced that William’s body was there when Lady Maxwell went there shortly after she came home.”

“He tried to abduct me then,” said Sara, shivering.

“As I said, he feared Lord Maxwell would find William’s remains first and deprive him of the reward, so he tried to hasten things along. You might say that after that, he took up residence in the dower house, at least when it was dark, because he was sure you would return.”

When Magistrate Orr stood up, so did the constable.

Sara was still thinking about the young girls Sir Ivor had molested. “How much of the truth will come out at Sir Ivor’s trial? I mean about his motive for killing William.”

“Very little,” said the magistrate. “Sir Ivor has freely confessed to the murder of his son, but the only motive that he will allow is that he lost his temper and struck William when they quarreled about William’s gaming debts.”

“Maybe it’s better that way,” said Sara, her bitterness and disgust plain to see. “Oh, not for Sir Ivor’s sake, but for the sake of his young victims.”

“Whatever his motive,” said Drew, “he’ll hang for his crime. And no one in Stoneleigh will shed a tear for him.”

And on that bitter note, he quit the room.

A
NNE
WAS WATCHING FOR DREW, AND WHEN HE
came out of the anteroom, she dropped everything.

“Drew!” she called out.

He looked at her blankly, said something inaudible under his breath, then turning on his heel, strode for the door.

It took Anne a moment or two to get over the shock of what was virtually a slap in the face. She called his name again, and when he ignored her, she raced after him.

She caught up with him in the courtyard. She grasped his arm and dragged him round. “Drew,” she said, “please listen to me.”

She had to stop for a moment to even her breathing, and in that pause, he said coldly, “We have nothing to say to each other, Anne, not now.”

She held on to his arm when he would have turned away. “Drew,
please
listen to me. I’ve suffered just as much as you, more, in fact, because I’ve been alone and you’ve found solace with others.”

His lip curled. “Don’t pretend you cared. You found solace in your religion. Do you think we can go back as though nothing happened? For three years you wouldn’t speak to me; you wouldn’t look at me. Now you know that I didn’t murder William and you think that makes it all right? If our positions had been reversed, if I’d believed you had murdered William, I would never have abandoned you.”

There was a frightening finality in his expression, but it did not deter her. She owed him this much. “Listen to me, Drew,” she said. “If I hurt you, I hurt myself more. Yes, I thought you had killed William, but I never held you responsible for his death. I blamed myself. And I was desperate with fear because I thought you would be found out. So, I made a pact with God. If he would spare you, I would give you up. I thought that was the penalty I had to pay for the sin of loving you.”

Tears were streaming down her face. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve stopped loving me. It’s such a relief to say it at last. I love you, Drew. I never stopped loving you. That’s what I want you to know.”

When he didn’t reply, she turned back to the house.

“Wait!”

She turned to face him.

“Why did you stay on at Longfield? If you promised to give me up, why not leave here and start a new life somewhere else?”

“I think you know why. Just to see you, just to be near you, was all I had. I couldn’t give that up, too.”

With a strangled cry, he reached for her and crushed her in his arms.

B
Y THE TIME SARA AND MAX CLIMBED THE
stairs to their chamber, Sara was practically sleeping on her feet. But there was something she had to do before she went to bed or she knew she would fret all night. “I must see Lucy,” she told Max.

He understood. He’d heard her refer to Lucy when she’d confronted Sir Ivor. While she went into Lucy’s room, he waited outside. She was only there for a few minutes and she was smiling when she came out.

“What did she say?” asked Max.

“She said that once, when she was waiting outside the church for her mother after a guild meeting, she saw Sir Ivor trying to entice Ellie, one of the blacksmith’s daughters, into his coach. I’ll say this for Constance. She raised us girls to be wise in the ways of men. So, nothing daunted, our Lucy marched right up to them, grasped Ellie’s hand, and told her that her mother was looking for her. After that, Lucy kept a careful eye on Sir Ivor. But I wish she’d told me. Or Constance. That’s the trouble, isn’t it? We know, but we never do anything. Lady Neville knew about Jenny. How could she have let it happen?”

They walked to their room in silence. Max was thoughtful. Somehow, he felt tainted by just being a man, and it wasn’t a feeling he was used to.

“What will happen to Lady Neville and her footman?” she asked.

“With a good lawyer, they may escape hanging and spend the rest of their lives in prison.”

She slipped out of her coat and threw it over a chair. “You don’t think that’s too harsh?”

“For what they did to you? Hardly. I wouldn’t care if they hanged.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Peter Fallon told me that you were against capital punishment.”

He took her in his arms. “Seeing a loaded gun at your wife’s head can make a man change his mind about a lot of things.”

“Hah! At least I didn’t invite Sir Ivor to shoot me. I don’t think that I shall ever forget you, arms spread, telling him to put a bullet in you. I wanted to kill you myself for putting me through that.”

He grinned. “The lengths I had to go to, to force those three little words out of you. Say them again, Sara. I promise, it won’t hurt.”

“I love you, Max.”

“And I love you.”

He was just about to kiss her when she yawned. “Ouch.” She put a hand to her jaw. “It’s still sore.”

“Let’s get you to bed.”

When she was sitting on the bed, he knelt beside her and slipped off her shoes. “Did you really believe that the
Courier
would come first with me? Is that why you wouldn’t confide in me, Sara?”