The Danbury Scandals (18 page)

Adam looked at
Maryanne, huddled in the corner of the carriage. ‘Well?’

‘No, no, I
cannot be seen in public like this; it would be too mortifying.’

He understood
her reluctance. Three days on the road staying in rudimentary accommodation and
with only one change of clothes had left her looking exhausted and bedraggled
and she was in no state to pass off her predicament with any degree of
confidence. And it would need more than confidence, it would need defiance to
explain away leaving home so suddenly and travelling for three days alone with
a man who was not her husband. He had pretended to be her guardian when they
had stopped for the night, but that had fooled no one and she had been only too
aware of the smirks of the inn servants when they thought she wasn’t looking.

It would not
have been so bad, she thought, if he had made some effort to be entertaining,
but he had said very little, sitting in brooding silence in the opposite corner
of the carriage for mile after mile, not even finding the energy to quarrel
with her, for that would have been better than nothing and, at least, let her
know he was aware that she was there. But it was no good complaining; she had
brought it on herself and must put up with it.

She had been
more than relieved when, on the second day, he broke the silence to tell her he
intended to take her to Beth Markham and seek her advice. ‘She helped once
before and I think she understands,’ he had said. ‘She might agree to put it
about that you had planned to go back to visit her all along.’

‘With you as my
escort?’ There had been a quirk to Maryanne’s mouth that was almost a smile.

He had grinned
and the brown eyes had softened. ‘How you arrived will have to remain a
mystery.’

‘And do you
intend to leave me with her?’

‘What else do
you suggest?’

What else,
indeed, short of marrying her? But he apparently had not even considered that
and she was not even sure that was what she wanted, if marrying him meant
taking a husband who spoke in monosyllables and gave every appearance of being
irritated by her presence. ‘Nothing,’ she had said. ‘I don’t know why I did not
think of her ladyship myself.’

Adam put his
head out of the coach door and called up to the driver, ‘Drive on to Adelphi
Terrace.’ He turned to Maryanne as the vehicle manoeuvred its way between the
waiting carriages and set off again. He wanted to take her in his arms and
offer another suggestion, but she seemed absorbed in looking out of the window
at the long line of carriages and their glittering occupants and even managed a
little laugh as she caught sight of a bright pink landaulet. The words stuck in
his throat and all he could say was, ‘I’ll send a message to Beth Markham to
come as soon as she is free.’

‘Yes,’ she
said, in a very small voice, wondering what mischievous devil had made her get
into his carriage in the first place. He had not wanted her; his kisses had
meant nothing. Her pride had been badly dented but she still had enough spirit
to know that she could never have married Mark and her reasons for leaving were
as valid as ever; it was only the way she had left that she regretted.

‘I will go and
make sure he’s alone,’ Adam said when the vehicle drew up at Robert’s house.
‘If he is entertaining too, then we will have to think again.’

Passing the
drawing-room window on the way to the door, he could see Robert sitting in an
armchair with a glass of brandy on the table at his elbow, studying some
papers. Relieved that his friend was alone, Adam tapped lightly on the glass.

It was a moment
or two before the man inside heard him, but when he did he moved quickly to the
window and opened it. ‘Adam! What in heaven’s name are you doing here?’

‘If you let me
in, I’ll tell you.’

Robert Rudge
flung the window open wider. ‘Better come in this way, don’t you think?’

Adam scrambled
over the sill and shut the window behind him, while the lawyer poured another
glass of brandy, which he handed to his visitor. ‘You know there is a warrant
out for your arrest?’

‘It doesn’t
surprise me.’

‘On a charge of
murder?’

‘Not that old
chestnut...’

‘No, not that.
The new Duke of Wiltshire was stabbed to death in his library three nights
ago.’

Adam sank into
a chair, drained his glass and held it out to be refilled. He did not speak.

‘You are the
prime suspect and...’ Robert paused. ‘The girl.’

‘Maryanne, you
mean?’

‘Yes, Miss
Paynter. How did you come to involve her? Haven’t you got enough to contend
with?’

‘I didn’t
exactly involve her; it was the other way around.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Outside in the
chaise.’ He sounded exhausted.

‘Get rid of
her. She will hamper you no end.’

Adam took a
mouthful of brandy, savouring its warmth on his tongue. ‘She already has, but,
as for getting rid of her, I can’t.’

‘Why not? You
haven’t gone and fallen in love with her, or anything as foolish as that, have
you?’

‘Now there’s an
interesting question,’ Adam said, tipping back his head to empty his glass.
‘It’s one I shall have to give some serious attention to.’

‘Send her away,
you are best alone, at least until this matter is settled.’

‘I cannot.
Robert, she is very tired and has nowhere to go.’

‘What does she
know?’

‘Nothing that I
am aware of, but I haven’t questioned her on the subject.’

‘Don’t you
think you should?’

Adam shrugged.
‘It would make no difference and it has nothing to do with falling in love,
fascinating as that prospect might be.’

‘Tell me about
it.’

‘I’ll do that,
but first may I fetch her in?’

‘Very well. I
can hardly refuse a lady in distress, but I can’t help feeling I am going to
regret it.’

As soon as
Maryanne was fetched, she was bustled up to a guest room and Jeannie Clavier
sent to help her undress and bath. The girl made very little effort to hide her
disapproval. ‘A lady shouldn’t travel without her maid,’ she said, pulling the
hairbrush through Maryanne’s hair with more vigour than finesse. ‘I wonder the
captain agreed.’

‘He didn’t,’
Maryanne said. ‘I made him.’

Jeannie
laughed. ‘The captain can’t be made to do anything.’ She paused. ‘Though he’s
changed since he met you. Gone soft, he has.’

‘There,
Madame
Clavier, you are wrong. There is nothing soft about the Jackdaw.’

‘How did you
come to know that name?’ Jeannie asked sharply.

‘He told me it
himself and, besides, you called him Captain Choucas.’

‘‘Tain’t the
same thing.’ She paused. ‘He don’t need your problems on top of his own, so why
don’t you leave him alone? You’ll get him killed.’

‘I never heard
such nonsense,’ Maryanne said angrily. ‘I wish him no harm and tomorrow, as
soon as Lady Markham arrives, I shall leave. Will that satisfy you?’

‘How do you
know she will have you?’

‘She is a
friend, she helped before...’

‘That was
before. Jeannie stopped suddenly. ‘Before what?’

‘Before the
Duke’s death, before they started blaming the captain for it. Friends!’ she
said contemptuously. ‘They don’t know what the word means.’

‘And you do?’
Maryanne asked.

‘Indeed I do.
It’s all about trusting someone, knowing them inside out, being sure, deep
inside you, that, however black they’re painted, inside they are good and true.
Do you feel like that about the captain, Miss Paynter? Can you put your hand on
your heart and say you never doubted him? If you loved him, you could.’

Realising she
had said more than she ought to have done, she picked up Maryanne’s discarded
clothes and left the room, saying she would send someone up to take away the
bath water and bring her clothes back after they had been pressed.

Half an hour
later, feeling a little more refreshed and dressed in the best of her two
gowns, Maryanne returned to the drawing-room, where Adam and Robert were deep
in conversation, brandy glasses in their hands.

‘I have only
been partly successful,’ Robert was saying. ‘The difficulty is trying to tie up
events that took place in two different countries, and, what with the war and
records being lost... You must be patient.’

‘It’s not a
question of patience, Robert, it’s one of keeping out of gaol long enough to
prove it.’

‘And having
Miss Paynter with you doesn’t improve your chances.’

‘Agreed, but it
cannot be helped.’

‘I will soon be
gone,’ she said, coming into the room. ‘The minute we hear from Lady Markham.’

Adam turned and
took a step towards hers. ‘Things have changed, Maryanne. Come and sit down; I
have something to tell you.’ He took her hand and led her to a sofa where he
sat beside her. The gesture was so unexpectedly gentle that she was taken
aback. She looked up into his face; his expression was sombre and his eyes
darker than usual; they seemed to have lost their gold flecks, as if they were
only there when he was laughing, and he was certainly not laughing now.

‘Lady Markham
will not have me,’ she said. ‘It is not altogether unexpected. You need not
concern yourself; I can find a position as a companion or a governess.’ She
turned to Robert. ‘If I might presume upon your hospitality just for tonight?’

‘Maryanne,’ Adam
began, cutting off Robert’s answer, ‘Beth Markham was here earlier today and
she brought news...’ He paused to put a glass of cognac into her hands. ‘Bad
news. The Duke of Wiltshire has been murdered.’

‘But that was
an accident,’ she cried. ‘And why bring that up now?’

‘I mean James,’
he said. ‘The new Duke.’

It was a full
minute before she could reply, then all she could say was, ‘I don’t believe
it,’ over and over again.

‘I am afraid it
is true,’ Robert said. ‘The news reached London ahead of you, I imagine,
because you went first to Portsmouth.’

‘But when? How?
Why? Who would want to murder him?’

‘He was stabbed
to death in the library the night you left and papers and money stolen,’ Robert
said, because Adam was too busy watching her face to speak. ‘Beth had it from
Mark Danbury himself, when he came hotfoot to London to see his lawyer.’

‘We must go
back,’ Maryanne said, putting down the half-finished brandy and jumping to her
feet. ‘Now, At once. . .’

‘No!’ Adam
grabbed her wrist, making her sit again. ‘You have not heard all of it. You
left on the very night His Grace was murdered and...’

‘So did you!’
In her agitation, she shouted the words. ‘You did it!’ Everything came rushing
back: the way he turned up on Danbury land, his dislike of the Danbury family,
Henry’s death in the curricle race, his haste to leave that last night, his
dark mood ever since. What an impediment to his flight to freedom she must have
been! But why hadn’t he just left her in the empty cottage and sailed away, why
come back for her? Did he think she knew more than she did? Enough to condemn
him?

‘Rubbish!’
Robert said, because Adam seemed incapable of speech; he was staring at
Maryanne as if she had struck him. ‘You are distraught.’ He smiled slowly but
it did not lighten the atmosphere. ‘And you are not above suspicion. The story
going about is that you did it together and then fled.’

‘No one would
believe that,’ she said, trying to smile at the idiocy of it. Inconsequentially
she wondered if James had seen the note she left her him on the hall table, but
then realised that if he had never come out of the library alive he could not
have done. ‘We must go back and tell them the truth.’

‘And if all
they want is a scapegoat?’ Adam asked. ‘What if we cannot prove our innocence;
what then?’

‘In English law
the onus is on our accusers to prove us guilty.’ She glanced at his belt and
wondered when he had stopped wearing his little dagger. Its absence confirmed
her worst fears. ‘Can’t you see, it’s the only way?’

‘But you do not
believe in my innocence, so what chance have I of convincing anyone else?’ He
was deliberately forcing her to think about the conflicting emotions which
beset her.

‘What I believe
does not matter.’ Unable to face his searching eyes, she turned away. ‘You are
not answerable to me, but to the law and, in the end, to your Maker.’

‘My Maker I can
trust; the law I do not, especially when it is manipulated by Mark Danbury. If
you will not listen to me, please listen to Robert.’

She did not
answer and Robert said, ‘In any other circumstances I, as a lawyer, would
advise you to stand trial and let them prove your guilt, but I am afraid
justice would not be done. Beth Markham says Mark is angry enough to kill you
both on sight.’

‘I don’t
believe that,’ she said. ‘He would never do such a thing.’