The Arrangement (30 page)

All of the flush from the wine he had drunk drained away from Roger’s face. “I didn’t mean you, Gail,” he said.

“We are waiting,” Raoul said implacably.

“I am sorry, Harriet,” Roger said. But he was looking at Raoul and not at Harriet, and I did not at all like what I saw in his eyes.

Dinner was not pleasant. Roger drank too much wine and made veiled, insulting remarks to Harriet, which finally caused Raoul to dismiss him from the table during the fish course.

“I am sorry, Harriet,” Raoul said after Roger had left in a fury. “I should have done that sooner, but I hate having to treat him as if he were a sixteen-year-old.”

“He’s deep in under the hatches, my lord,” Mr. Cole said somberly. “I’ve heard the moneylenders have him in their clutches.”

Ginny said, “Good God, surely even Roger can’t be that stupid?”

“That is my information, Lady Regina.”

It occurred to me as I listened to this conversation that Nicky’s money would be an absolute necessity to Roger should he indeed inherit George’s estate.

Is there any reason someone might wish Nicky ill?
Raoul had asked me that. Now, I wondered if there might be a reason right here. Roger had already asked me point-blank if I would agree to release the money bequeathed to Nicky if Raoul would agree to it.

He must know, however, that Raoul would not agree to such a thing, I thought.

I could not help wondering what would happen to that money if Nicky were dead. Would it go directly back into the estate, giving Roger immediate access to it?

I felt my hands grow icy cold and clasped them together in my lap.

Could Roger be trying to harm Nicky?

I didn’t make a noise or a move, so I was surprised when Raoul turned to look at me and asked with concern, “Are you all right, Gail?”

“Yes.” I forced a smile and picked up my fork. “I am fine.”

“Where do you think Roger got the drink this afternoon?” John asked. “I thought you told the local inns not to serve him.”

Raoul sighed. “I did, but he obviously has some acquaintances in the neighborhood.”

The footmen finished removing the pickled herrings and brought in roast pigeons stuffed with parsley and butter.

“You could just boot him out of Savile, Raoul,” John pointed out. “There is no reason why you have to put up with Roger and his ill humor and his wastrel ways.”

I hadn’t eaten the herrings but the pigeons smelled all right. I accepted some asparagus from Raoul and cut into my fowl.

He answered John, “I know, I know, but Mr. Middleman and I agreed that it would be best if the two possible heirs to Devane remained here at Savile until this whole issue is resolved.”

“And afterward?” John persisted. “Suppose Harriet’s child
is
a boy. What are you going to do with Roger then? Continue to support him? Continue to allow him to live here?”

“Then we will have to find a way for Roger to support himself,” Raoul said serenely.

John snorted rudely.

Ginny said, “Good luck.”

Mr. Cole said, “That kind of young man don’t never come to anything good, my lord. He ain’t like you, you see. He don’t care about anything but himself.”

I felt a stab of surprise at how well Mr. Cole had expressed what I thought was probably the essence of Roger Melville.

That night I moved back to my old room on the second floor and Raoul came up the stairs to visit me and everything was normal for three more days.

Then one of the tenants’ children was killed by a bow and arrow in the woods.

It happened like this. For three days, Charlie, Theo, and Nicky had been playing Robin Hood in the Home Woods. In fact, for the first two days, I had joined in their game for part of the day. I knew I had to surmount this need I felt to keep a constant eye on Nicky, but when the boys agreed to my tentative suggestion that perhaps they could use a Maid Marian to bring them luncheon, I couldn’t resist the opportunity. On the third morning, however, Ginny asked me to go into Savile village with her and I had left the boys to play their game without me.

What had happened next was that Johnny Wester had accompanied his father, who was one of Raoul’s tenants, to the mill, where Charlie had met him and invited him to spend the day playing Robin Hood. Johnny’s father had given permission and Johnny had enthusiastically accompanied Charlie to “Sherwood Forest” to meet the rest of Robin Hood’s band of merry men.

Unbeknownst to me, the faithful Mr. Wilson was not in attendance on that particular morning, as Ginny had given him permission to spend the day with his brother, who was passing through Henley. The boys had pressed the footman whom Raoul had assigned to look out for Nicky into service to play Little John to Charlie’s Robin.

The boys had also taken advantage of their tutor’s (and my) absence to borrow several of the estate’s target-shooting bows and arrows, which were stored in one of the outbuildings behind the castle. Albert, the footman, was unaware that the boys did not have permission to use the bows, so he had gone along with the game. In the absence of Maid Marian, the boys had assigned Albert to remain back at camp (the tree house), supposedly preparing dinner for the merry men, and so both as a guard and as a witness he was useless.

All the boys knew the rudiments of shooting, and afterward they told us in shock that they had not been shooting at each other but at the trees, which were supposed to be the Sheriff of Nottingham’s men.

Only somehow Johnny got shot in the chest and was killed.

After Albert had brought the child back to the castle, after it was certain that he was dead, and after his parents had been sent for, Raoul stood our three boys in front of him in the Little Drawing Room and tried to discover exactly what had happened. Ginny and I sat tensely on the settee on either side of Raoul and listened.

“None of us could have shot him, Uncle Raoul!” Charlie cried in distress.

“We were all spread out in a line, see, because we were supposed to be attacking the sheriffs men,” Theo said.

“Charlie and Theo and I were all shouting and yelling,” said Nicky. “Johnny was kind of quiet, but I could hear the noise he was making as the twigs broke under his feet. Then there was a…kind of thud, and he cried out.”

Nicky swallowed audibly.

“None of us could have shot him,” Charlie repeated. “We were all facing in the same direction, Uncle Raoul! How could we have shot Johnny in the chest?”

“You are quite certain that none of you were in front of Johnny?” Raoul asked quietly.

“No!” Charlie and Theo said emphatically, and Nicky shook his head.

“Arrows don’t turn around,” Charlie said. “They go straight. And we were shooting
away
from Johnny, Uncle Raoul. I swear it!”

Ginny said tiredly, “Well, someone shot Johnny, Charlie. He didn’t shoot himself.”

The three boys were very pale and shocked-looking. “I
know
someone shot Johnny, Mama,” Charlie said. “I am just telling you that it wasn’t us.”

Ginny fell back on motherly scolding. “What on earth prompted you boys to take out the bows and arrows? I can’t believe that you could be so untrustworthy.”

Silence fell in the room. The three boys looked wretchedly at their feet.

“We’re sorry,” Theo whispered.

“Yes, well, sorry will not bring Johnny back,” Ginny said, falling back on trivial words in the face of the tragic.

“Could there have been a poacher in the woods?” I asked. “Someone who did not want to be heard with a gun so he chose to use a bow?”

“A poacher who was poaching small boys?” Ginny asked.

“No, a poacher who mistook Johnny for a deer,” I said doggedly.

Raoul replied somberly, “Anyone from the neighborhood would know that the children use those woods. It is hard to believe that anyone would be careless enough to shoot without being very certain indeed what it was he was shooting at.”

“We were being quite loud, my lord,” Nicky said in a small voice. “We were pretending it was a battle, you see, so we were shouting all kinds of taunts. A poacher would have known for certain that people were in the area.”

The whole picture was growing uglier and uglier.

Powell appeared in the drawing-room doorway. “The Westers are here, my lord.”

Raoul got slowly to his feet. He looked sick. “Very well, Powell, I will come immediately.”

I wanted so much to go with him, to help him through the horrible task of telling the parents that their child was dead. But I did not have that right.

Ginny said, “I’ll go with you, Raoul.”

He gave her a grateful look. “Thank you, Ginny. I think a woman’s presence will be helpful to Mrs. Wester.”

The two of them left the room, leaving me alone with the three boys.

Charlie said wretchedly, “If only I had not invited Johnny to play with us!”

My own feelings were very conflicted. I felt dreadful about Johnny, of course, but I had an utterly terrifying feeling that if Johnny had not been added to the game, it would have been Nicky who was lying lifeless in the anteroom.

I said, “You couldn’t have known what would happen, Charlie. Now I’d like you to think. Did you notice any sign at all that there was someone else in the woods with you this afternoon?”

The boys looked at one another, then slowly they all shook their heads.

“We were very busy with our game, you see, Mrs. Saunders,” Charlie said. “I’m not saying that no one was there—in fact it’s pretty clear that someone must have been, isn’t it—but we were too busy to notice anything.”

“That’s so, Mama,” Nicky said.

I looked at the shocked young faces before me. “No one thinks that Johnny’s shooting was your fault,” I told them gently. “Sometimes things happen, terrible things, that are very hard for us to understand. I think it would be a good idea for you all to spend a little time this week talking to the rector about what happened to Johnny. Mr. Ambling might be able to help make this a little easier for you.”

“Yes, Mrs. Saunders,” the Austen boys murmured.

Nicky nodded.

“Do you think Uncle Raoul wants us to stay here and wait for him?” Theo asked.

I thought that the familiar surroundings of the nursery would probably be good for them. “No,” I said. “Go upstairs. If you are needed your uncle will know where you are.”

The three boys turned to leave.

“Nicky,” I murmured as they reached the door, and at my words he turned back into the room. “Are you all right, sweetheart?” I asked.

By now the Austen boys had left the room, and Nicky returned to me, threw his arms around my waist, and buried his face in my breasts. “It was so dreadful, Mama,” he said in a choked kind of voice. “Johnny was lying on his back and a big arrow was sticking out of his chest.” He began to sob.

I held him so tightly that I was afraid I was hurting him, and the image he had described was frighteningly present in my mind.

I had seen Johnny when they brought him in, and the first thing I had noticed was that he was of a similar size and build as Nicky and that his hair was almost the same shade of brown.

A dreadful conviction was growing within me that the target of that fatal bow shot had been my son.

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” I said when his sobs had slowed and he had collected himself somewhat. “From now on I want you to be very careful never to leave the company of the other boys and Mr. Wilson. Do you hear me? Never, ever, under any circumstances, go off on your own.”

His blue eyes were huge. “Do you think I am in danger, Mama?”

I hated to frighten him, but I thought the situation was too serious for me to ignore. “I don’t know, Nicky, but what happened to Johnny was definitely peculiar. So please be careful.”

The blue eyes got even bigger. “Yes, Mama.”

“Good boy.” I forced my lips to assume what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Good night, then, sweetheart. I will see you in the morning.”

“Mama,” said my now thoroughly frightened son, “can I stay with you tonight?”

It was a measure of how frightened I was that I said yes.

* * * *

Raoul and I went for a walk in the rose garden after dinner, and his response to my decision about Nicky was predictable. “You said he could sleep in your room? Are you mad, Gail? The boy is eight years of age—far too old to be sleeping in his mama’s room.”

Even though I had expected it, Raoul’s reply incensed me. “You are just put out because you won’t be able to sleep with me yourself. What do you care that Nicky’s life is in danger as long as you get what you want?”

He said in a hard voice, “What are you talking about?”

My voice was edged with panic as I answered, “Nicky is in deadly danger, Raoul. I know it. First there was the bridge, then there was the possible poisoning of his pony, and now a boy who looks like Nicky—a boy who was added into the play group at the Home Woods at the last minute—is killed.”

He was silent for a minute. Then he said, “You think that arrow was meant for Nicky?”

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

“Christ,” he said, and I did not mistake his use of the sacred name for blasphemy.

More silence fell between us. The sweet, heavy scent of the roses was all around us, and from the top of the castle walls a nightingale began to sing. I wondered if it was the same nightingale that had been singing the first night Raoul and I had made love.

The thought of that night softened my feelings toward him. “How was your interview with the Westers?” I asked.

“Hellish.” His voice was rough and angry-sounding. “What can one possibly say to someone who has lost a child?”

It occurred to me that I was speaking to a man who had been on both sides of that tragic scenario. It was true that he could have used the comfort of my bed that night as much as Nicky could.

I told myself that Raoul’s life was not in danger and that Nicky’s was.

He stretched his shoulders as if he was very tired. “I know we’ve been through this before, Gail, but let’s go through it again.” He thrust his hand impatiently through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “You think Nicky is in danger but you have no idea as to why this might be so?”