The Deathly Portent (36 page)

Despite this, Aidan took the precaution of borrowing Ryde from Lord Francis to walk ahead while Sam Hawes and his wife brought up the rear.

He was relieved there was no longer any sign of the stake and faggots that had been set up on the green, and he had enjoined Ryde and Sam Hawes to say nothing of them to Cassie.

“Here we are,” he said as they passed into the cobbled courtyard. “You will be safe enough here until Lady Ferrensby comes.”

Her expressive eyes, enormous in her white countenance, searched his gaze.

“What will you tell her?”

“To take you to her own home,” said Aidan without hesitation. “You cannot remain in the cottage. Not with the villagers in this wild mood.”

She stepped into the dark interior of the Blue Pig but halted there, her eyes casting about the shadowed hallway. She gave a little shiver.

“I cannot wholly blame them.”

“Cassie, we do not live in the Dark Ages. However much you may conceive yourself to be at fault, there is no excuse for them, given over to mob rule as they are.”

He turned to beckon Tabitha Hawes inside and guided Cassie towards the coffee room door, throwing it open. Inside he discovered the three companions—Mrs. Radlett, Miss Beeleigh, and Mr. Netherburn—but there was no sign of the Fanshawes.

Miss Beeleigh frowned as Cassie slipped into the room.

“What possessed you to bring the girl here, Vicar? D’you suppose the Blue Pig to be any less open to attack than Mrs. Dale’s cottage?”

The widow Radlett looked startled. “Oh, but it must be, Alethea. For one thing, it has a stout door.”

Aidan pushed Cassie into a chair. “It has also the advantage of being well populated. Besides, Mrs. Dale will not be here for long.”

Mr. Netherburn had risen and now came forward with a gallant bow. “May I order you some refreshment, Mrs. Dale? Coffee perhaps?”

A smile flickered on Cassie’s pale features. “To tell you the truth, I am excessively hungry.”

“I should think you are,” grumbled Tabitha behind her. “You ain’t touched a morsel today.” She looked at Netherburn. “Never you fret, sir. I’ll to the kitchens and fetch her a bite and something to drink.”

Netherburn gracefully retreated and Aidan smiled at the maid. “Thank you, Mrs. Hawes. I will remain with Mrs. Dale until you return.”

Tabitha nodded and bustled from the room. Aidan was about to ask after the Fanshawes when Mrs. Radlett piped up.

“Poor Lady Francis has gone to lie down upon her bed. She was white as a sheet and no wonder. So horrid for the poor thing!”

Aidan’s heart sank as Cassie instantly looked across, consternation in her gaze.

“Why, what happened to her?”

“Mrs. Radlett—” But Aidan was too late.

“They tried to burn her at the stake!” announced the widow in accents so close to ghoulish delight, Aidan wanted to shake her.

His eyes turned swiftly to Cassie, and he saw the predictable shock as she blanched the more. Not much to his surprise, she turned instantly to him, reproach in her tone.

“You said nothing of this.”

Aidan shrugged. “I did not wish to frighten you more than I need.”

Her eyes grew round with horror. “They meant it for me.”

“Afraid so,” chimed in Miss Beeleigh in the flat tone nearly habitual to her. “Might as well face it. They’re all mad, no doubt about that.”

“They were intoxicated,” said Mrs. Radlett, almost on a snap.

Mr. Netherburn was shaking his head in a sorrowful fashion. “Terrible. I could not believe my eyes when I saw poor Lady Francis tied up there. And if Uddington had not snatched the firebrand from out of Will’s hand, I dread to think what would have happened.”

Cassie turned horrified eyes once more upon Aidan. “But why? Why should they hurt Lady Fan?”

“Said she was in league with you,” Miss Beeleigh explained. “Or rather, with the witch, as they would have it.”

“But that is sheer madness,” protested Cassie. “When Lady Fan has been trying to help me.”

“Exactly,” came from Miss Beeleigh on a curt note. “Trying to help
you
.”

Aidan saw the instant look of culpability that overtook Cassie and wished vengefully for a gag. Why could the woman not keep her mouth shut?

“I must see her,” Cassie uttered fretfully. “Where is she? Lady Fan, where is she?”

She moved to the door, and Aidan went quickly to her side. “Wait!”

At this moment Mr. Netherburn, who was in a position to see out of the window onto the green, provided a much needed diversion.

“Ah, here is Lady Ferrensby’s carriage. She has Henbury with her, I believe.”

“Not a moment too soon,” muttered Aidan. Time seemed to have grown wings, for it felt an age since the justice of the peace had gone to apprise her ladyship of events.

“I must go out to her.”

“And I must go to Lady Fan,” Cassie said again, and Aidan saw determination in the tilt of her chin. She looked across at the other three. “You said she went to lie down. Where is her chamber? Speak!”

“One moment, Cassie. Let me fetch Tabitha.” A tinge of irritation showed in her eyes, and he added with a quick smile, “To show you the way.”

The look turned to eagerness, and to Aidan’s relief Tabitha chose that moment to come in, saying the girl Patty would be along presently with a tray.

“Excellent. But will you take Mrs. Dale to see Lady Francis, if you please, Mrs. Hawes.” He held open the door for Cassie to go through and leaned close to Tabitha as she passed, murmuring, “Stay with her.”

Tabitha nodded, and Aidan watched them start off up the stairs before heading for the front door. By the time he caught up with Lady Ferrensby, she and Lord Henbury had alighted from the carriage and were seen to be in close conversation with Pilton, who was guarding the prisoners in the lock-up.

Lady Ferrensby, to Aidan’s grim amusement, hailed him with obvious relief.

“Mr. Kinnerton, thank heavens! I trust you are able to furnish a round tale about what has been going forward here? So far I have been privileged to understand not one word!”

Aidan had to laugh. “You are scarcely to blame, ma’am. Nor dare I suppose you will be inclined to credit the tale.”

Her keen gaze met his. “Oh, I think I may. You are not a man to exaggerate, I believe.”

He was pleased to think she read him so well. Without bothering to raise his voice for Lord Henbury’s ears, he left the man arguing with the constable and drew Lady Ferrensby aside.

“I think you must prepare to be very much shocked, ma’am. Matters are serious indeed.”

When he had told her the facts, unvarnished and as briefly as he could outline them, he saw that her ladyship was made of sterner stuff than he had supposed.

“I am more angry than shocked, sir. I have been remiss. I should have taken this matter under charge days ago.”

“It is not too late, ma’am. I must beg you to take Mrs. Dale into your household for her safety.”

She nodded coolly. “I shall certainly do so. But that is not what I meant.” She turned towards the Cock and Bottle. “Come, Mr. Kinnerton. I think we must both take a stand.”

D
espite Francis’s reluctant agreement to allow her to remain, Ottilia felt the truce between them to be uneasy. In a bid to mollify him a little, she had acquiesced in his insistence upon rest, supping the tisane brought up by Patty. Inwardly she chafed, a plethora of questions tumbling in her head to which she needed immediate answers. Under other circumstances, her spouse’s jealous guardianship of her person would have thrilled her. But at this moment, it felt restrictive and irksome.

Thus, when a rapid tapping on the door produced Cassie Dale, Ottilia could not but feel a degree of relief.

“Come in, come in, Cassie,” she called, forestalling any attempt Francis might make to prevent the girl entering their chamber.

Cassie did not wait for the door to be fully opened, but dived under Francis’s arm and sped towards the bed, her dark eyes redolent of shock and remorse.

“What have they done to you?” she burst out, low-voiced. “Oh, it is monstrous. Monstrous! Are you hurt? Pray tell me you are not badly injured!”

“Not in the least,” Ottilia assured her, receiving the stretched-out hands into her own as the girl leaned impulsively down towards her. Ottilia released one of her hands and patted the bed. “Sit by me, do, Cassie.”

Mrs. Dale’s hand gripped hers tightly, but she did as she was bid, her eyes never leaving Ottilia’s face.

“I cannot bear it! It should have been me. That is what they wanted.”

“And a very good thing they got me instead,” said Ottilia firmly.

Glancing past the tragic-eyed girl, she noticed the maid Tabitha hovering in the doorway. Francis was still holding the edge of the door, and looking vexed. Ottilia threw him a look of apology but lost no time in taking advantage of the situation.

“Fan, I am much in need of sustenance. Would you see what can be done, if you please? I am sure we will both be safe enough with Tabitha to guard us.”

His gaze narrowed, and he cast a glance at the robust figure of the maid. Then he strolled towards the bed and quirked an eyebrow, quite in his usual fashion.

“I am de trop, is that it?”

Relief flooded Ottilia, and she threw him one of her mischievous looks. “That is it exactly.”

His lips twitched. “Then there is nothing for it but to retire gracefully. Mrs. Dale, you have precisely fifteen minutes.”

“Francis!”

“Thank you,” Cassie said, quite sincerely. “I will not tire her, I promise.”

Francis nodded and went to the door. “Mrs. Hawes, you’ll remain in the room?”

Reassured on this point, he at last removed himself, and once she had begged the maid to be seated, Ottilia was able to give her attention to Cassie Dale, who demanded an account of her sufferings. Ottilia made as light of the occurrence as she could, but Cassie was not easily satisfied, determined to shoulder the blame.

“Miss Beeleigh said the villagers think you are in league with me, and that it is all my fault because you were trying to help me. And she is right.”

“Nothing of the sort,” Ottilia retorted. “Miss Beeleigh is a great deal too busy.”

“Well, but she did try to stop this from happening, so perhaps I should thank her,” said Cassie on a forlorn note.

Ottilia eyed her. Had Miss Beeleigh exaggerated her own part in today’s events, when her efforts had hampered Ottilia not a little?

“She tried to stop it? How do you mean?”

Cassie’s features blanched. “They have been talking of burning me at the stake for days. Miss Beeleigh heard of it and did what she could to scotch it.”

A flurry disturbed Ottilia’s pulse. “When?”

“Yesterday, before Duggleby’s funeral.” Cassie looked round at her maid, who had taken a seat on the dressing stool. “Is that not what Alice said, Tabby?”

“Alice? She is presently here helping Patty,” Ottilia said. “Miss Beeleigh sent for her because of all the upset.”

Tabitha rose and came to the bed, her frowning gaze steady on Ottilia’s face. “What is it, ma’am? You look as if you’ve a thundercloud gathering over your head.”

Ottilia’s senses were humming, but she forced a smile. “I am merely weighing one or two notions in my mind, Mrs. Hawes.”

Cassie was regarding Ottilia in frowning question. Trying to see what her maid saw? Ottilia summoned every ounce of her customary sangfroid.

“Pray tell me what it was that Alice said.”

“Oh, it was horrible—” began Cassie, but the maid Tabitha intervened.

“Best if I tell it, Miss Cassie, for it were to me Alice came.”

“Yes, and she did not wish to speak before me, but Tabby made her say it nonetheless. We were on our way back from the church.”

“I’d the intention of telling you in any event, ma’am,” said Tabitha. “Only with what happened this morning, it went clean out of my head.”

Ottilia strove to curb her impatience. “Quite understandable. But pray go on, Mrs. Hawes.”

“Well, from what I could understand, it seems Miss Beeleigh took it upon herself to give snuff to any as were in Tisbury’s taproom come yesterday morning. She spoke of this stake-burning talk and said as she’d have her musket out on any who took it into their heads to do any such.”

“Did she indeed?” murmured Ottilia appreciatively. A tactical move which one could not but admire, even while deprecating its intent.

“That were all very well,” said Tabitha grimly, “if Miss Beeleigh hadn’t taken it into her head to start on you, my Lady Fan.”

Ottilia raised her brows, a little spark of realisation slotting into place like the cogs in a wheel. “How, pray?”

“Warning them folk, if you please, as they hadn’t ought to be thinking such foolishness as of you being in league with the witch, for as they’d heard as you were by way of being a champion to Miss Cassie. Nor she didn’t scruple to say as the Lady Fan were looking to have someone’s head, and if Tisbury weren’t careful, you’d have his. I can’t give it you word for word, but that’s the brunt of it, ma’am.”

“It will suffice, I thank you,” Ottilia said drily.

Cassie was looking from one to the other of them, puzzlement in her eyes. “But why, Tabby, are you cross about it? I thought to be grateful to Miss Beeleigh for taking the trouble to work on my behalf. No one else in the village has done so.”

Tabby Hawes set her arms akimbo, and the ire in her eyes deepened, her face colouring a trifle. “Because none but a nodcock wouldn’t think to say such a thing to such folk as the Tisburys and Staxton and their like, for as anyone with any sense in their head would know as it was bound to make them mad as muck and bring on the very thing as it was trying to stop.”

“Just so,” Ottilia agreed.

But she refrained from pointing out that Miss Beeleigh, so far from being a fool, possessed a staggering intelligence—if only she could be induced to use it for the greater good. Which was, Ottilia feared, past praying for. There was only one person who inspired the woman to charitable deeds, such as she saw them.

Cassie’s face had fallen, and Ottilia was not much surprised. She had so few fighting in her corner, it must depress her to be obliged to relinquish this tiny ray of hope. Ottilia made a bid to brighten her.