The Lonely Earl (23 page)

“Oh, now, James! You’re angry with me. I should not have expressed myself so plainly, but there it is. I’m a direct person, and I cannot help it!” 

Lady Waverly’s expression should have reflected wariness, Faustina thought, feeling a bit cautious herself, but ii; did not. Instead, she thought with a sinking feeling, there was sly triumph lurking in her aunt’s eyes, and she dreaded finding out what had put it there.

Not until the earl left — in unseemly haste, it seemed to Faustina — did she have an opportunity to speak to Julia.

“Imagine my surprise,” she said confidentially, “when my aunt came downstairs! I thought she was safely drugged by the draft.”

“She wouldn’t take it,” said Julia bleakly.

“But what has wrought this miracle of recovery?”

“I did.” Julia’s expression was tight, as though she had slipped on a wax impression of her face and left it to harden. As though she dared not move, lest the wax crack and dissolve, revealing a wasteland beneath it
“Yon did?” Faustina echoed.

“Mama was upset about Mr. Talbot.”

“I can’t think why,” said Faustina bluntly. “He’s eligible, and I thought all your mama wanted was to see you married. But surely he has not offered for you.”

“Not yet. But you see, I promised.”

“Promised?” Faustina prompted when Julia seemed to forget what she was saying.

“Oh, yes. That is why she is cutting the vicar, you know. To keep his guests, too, from coming.”

“What promise, Julia?” insisted Faustina in a compelling voice.

“I love him, you know. But I promised not to see Mr. Talbot again. Not until I’m of age. But that’s two years yet. An eternity.”

Faustina gasped. But Julia was already on her way up the stairs. Slowly, without tears.

Like, Faustina thought, an old, old woman.

Chapter 16

Mademoiselle Claudine Deland was restless.

She looked out into the beech trees surrounding Crale Hall and stamped her foot on the thick carpet. So many trees! One couldn’t see anywhere at all, not down to the village, not even down to the stables. From the sitting room next door, one could see across the lawn below, but there too the view was obscured.

Mademoiselle — shortened by Althea to Zelle — had been brought up in a city, where nice comfortable houses nestled cheek by jowl against each other, and even above the street the houses leaned together in friendly concourse, so that, in some places, two people could touch fingertips across the narrow cobbled alley below.

One knew what one’s neighbors were doing — fighting, making love, even what they were cooking in their large black kettle, constantly stirred with a big wooden spoon.

Her wages were good, she thought, and that was all that had brought her here, that and a possible flirtatious interest in Milord. That interest had lasted no more than thirty minutes. From that time on, disappointment had followed disappointment, until the last one yesterday.

She had built hopes on, one day, attaching young Joseph Kyd to her by matrimonial ties that even Mistress Betsy could not sever. And then, it would not take too much cleverness — so Zelle thought — to cause the Green Man to come under the control of young Joseph. And Zelle.

She had schemed for some time — ever since she had come to this forsaken land where you had to trudge miles before you saw even a friendly face. These stupid Englishmen! Never before had she required as long as two weeks to enslave any young man who took her fancy.

But Mistress Betsy had proved to be cleverer — or to have more of the good luck! — than Zelle had reckoned. She had been forced to more and more dangerous ruses to get to see Joseph in private.

Even, the last few nights, greatly fearful but determined, she had locked the sitting-room door behind her and tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding the creaky one outside Mrs. Robbins’ door — that tattling old woman! — and across the lawn to meet Joseph in the little woods. And last night, he had not come.

If Milord had found that she was not in the rooms at night with his daughter, she would be given barely time to pack her garments before she would be out of Crale Hall. She gave him that much credit, even though she considered that he neglected Althea.

But she longed with all her heart to be back in Brussels, away from the smoldering eye of Mistress Betsy, who looked directly through you and saw the thoughts you had safely hidden away.

But there was no money. She did not wish to go home with only her passage paid. No, she needed the dowry, enough so that Jean Pincot — that adoring swain — would open his eyes wide!

She could not contain her restless thoughts in her room. She must get out of this dark house, go as far as the Green Man, to make one last try with Joseph, who would not
quite
say, “I marry you, no matter my mother!”

Perhaps she would try again. And then, perhaps not. She was too restless to decide.

Not even time yet for luncheon — and the whole day to spend! Lady Althea had found a picture book in the deserted schoolroom down the hall yesterday, and she could not be prized away from it.

It was unfortunate for Maddox that he limped across the yard toward the side door of the house in full sight of Zelle in her current mood. He was not aware of her watchful dark eyes from the window just under the roof.

But Zelle, always curious about her neighbors, felt a stirring of interest in the unusual arrival of Maddox. She did not like him, ugly and crippled as he was. But she knew that his place was not inside Crale Hall. Milord had not sent for him — how could he, when he had gone out this morning on his big prancing gray and she heard from Mrs. Robbins that he would be gone for several days?

No, Maddox was coming into the house in a fashion she could only think of as secretive. And where there are secrets, she thought with quickened interest, there are people who want them kept. For a price. She glanced into Althea’s bedroom. The child was still spelling out the simple words of the book in her lap, following letter by letter with a finger. Set for another hour, Zelle judged, and tiptoed away.

It was a long way down the stairs from the suite assigned to the Lady Althea to the ground floor, and through long halls where the floor rang with one’s footfalls unless one prudently stopped to remove one’s shoes.

But where was Maddox?

She stopped to listen. She heard nothing. But if Maddox had business with the servants, then he would not have come in through the little door at the side.

Zelle moved unerringly toward the rooms that the earl used. She was rewarded by hearing, as she neared the study, the sound of voices within, behind the closed door.

Creeping closer, she sorted them out. Young Vincent’s, for one. And Maddox’s, for another. She listened for quite a while, until she was positive that there were only the two men in the study. But something in the rise and fall of the voices didn’t sound right.

She frowned, and crept nearer. She was too close, if the door should suddenly open. She thought of a little room next door to the study, a room she had discovered in her journeyings about the house, curious as a ferret. Perhaps she could hear better from there. Quick as thought, she slipped through that door, leaving it prudently ajar.

Maddox’s voice sounded suddenly sharp and clear in her ear. The walls were astonishingly thin, she noted with approval. Just like the walls in the home she had grown up in.

And then she realized what was wrong with the voices. Maddox did not sound in the slightest like an ugly, lame gamekeeper. Instead, he sounded much like the master of the house. Not Milord, of course, but definitely a man in charge. Her conclusion was vague in her mind, but she was certain of what she meant: Maddox was master, and young Vincent, who was the earl’s own half-brother, was servile.

“The earl is away,” said Maddox with a sneer, “or you would not dare sit in that leather chair.”

“This chair,” said Vincent, on the defensive, “was my father’s.”

“You don’t half fit it. Nor ever will. Where’s the earl?”

“How should I know?”

“Don’t gammon me,” said Maddox truculently. “You know where he is. Tell.”

“He’s going to Teignmouth,” Vincent said sulkily.

The information seemed unwelcome. “Teignmouth?” There was a silence as Zelle set herself to memorize every word. Her acquisitive sense twitched. “Teignmouth. I don’t like that above half,” said Maddox. From the alteration in the tone of his voice, she judged that he had taken a chair, probably the one opposite the desk. She herself had sat in that chair once, but only upon invitation. Maddox had not been invited to sit.

“Don’t worry,” said Vincent.

“I don’t like him snooping around. Especially there. Suppose he runs on to something at the harbor?”

“He won’t.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“I made all the arrangements. I tell you, there’s no way he can find out anything,” said Vincent.

“He’d better not. I’ve trusted to your arrangements before. And the trouble was mine in the long run.”

Zelle’s acquisitive sense did more than twitch. It was off and running, as she revised her anticipated dowry upward by twenty pounds.

“I’ve covered our tracks,” said Vincent. “I think you’re worrying over nothing.”

“
Our
tracks?” said Maddox with an ugly question in his voice. 

“I mean my tracks, of course,” said Vincent. “I can trust the man where I moor the boat”

“There’d better be no slipup,” resumed Maddox. “Especially not now.”

“Why worry?” demanded Vincent. “We’ve been doing all right haven’t we? Money stowed away, enough to put this country behind us, start over again somewhere else?”

“That’s it” said Maddox. “Too long a run of good luck. It’s bound to change. But not until after this last big job.”

Vincent seemed at length to share some of Maddox’s worry, for when he spoke again, it was in an altered tone. “Why can’t we forget this last one, Maddox? I never did like it.”

“One more big job.”

“We’ve got enough without it.”

“I say,” said Maddox in a tone that chilled Zelle where she stood, “one more job. Got that?”

“All right,” said Vincent, cowed. “One more. But that’s the last.”

“Right. We won’t need any more. But we’ve got to have some insurance on this one.”

“What do you mean, insurance?” said Vincent.

“Look at you, white as a ghost,” jeered Maddox. “And that’s what I mean. The
ghost
of die earl can’t hurt us any.”

“Maddox? What did you say? You can’t mean… No, no, I don’t want anything to happen to him. I can’t go along with that. Maddox, I forbid you—”

“What’s the trouble? Has he been so good to you that you’re full of devotion, spilling out of your ears? You know he’s nosing around too much. But you won’t have to soil your lily-whites with this. And if you hear that the earl’s had an accident, you won’t know nothing about it. You hear that?” Maddox’s voice was louder now, and Zelle, listening with a lively imagination, envisioned him rising from his chair to stand over the younger man, cringing in his father’s chair. “Nothing!”

Zelle was now thoroughly scared. She had no doubt that the man in the next room was capable of murder. Even of a man as highly placed as Milord. And if
he
was not safe, then what of a mere Belgian nursemaid whom nobody would miss? Zelle’s mouth was dry. Her life depended upon total silence. If Maddox found her there, she was as good as dead.

It was then that someone took Zelle by the hand.

Zelle’s scream did not reach her lips.

The small hand belonged to the Lady Althea, her eyes terrified. The small hand in hers began to quiver, and Zelle clutched it tightly. “Quiet,” she said without sound, but the child read her lips, and a faint relaxation of the muscles in her face told Zelle that she understood. They stood together, joined in fear, until the room next door was quiet, and Zelle realized that Maddox, at least, had gone.

Only then did the two of them, in harmony for once, tiptoe out of the little room, and through devious ways that Zelle knew, out of the building.

It was a long walk to the Green Man. But Zelle turned in that direction instinctively, believing that while Mistress Betsy did not like Zelle, she would do a great deal for the Lady Althea.

“How long were you there?” demanded Zelle when they were well away from the house.

“I followed you when you went downstairs.”

Zut
! The child had heard more than enough, and if even Milord was not safe, then his daughter’s life was not worth a sou.

“You are not afraid to come with me?”

Althea looked back over her shoulder. “I do not like that Maddox.” She reflected a moment. “Nor do I like Vincent. I do not wish him to be my uncle.” She spoke calmly, but her hand shook in Zelle’s.

It was strange, thought Zelle, a long time later, as they emerged from the last lane, to see Trevan ahead of them, that just as she was about to leave the child, the two of them had come to mutual tolerance through common fear.

Too late, of course. Even if she wanted to. Zelle could not stay, knowing that any day Maddox would read her fear in her eyes and jump to a conclusion that would be accurate, and deadly in its results.

She had not thought of her dowry for three hours.

Zelle hustled Althea through the back door of the Green Man. The yeasty smell of ale in great barrels, the heavy greasy smell of fried fish, and the fruity smell of hot pies swept over them like a high tide.

“I’m hungry,” said Althea.

Betsy Kyd’s welcome was less than cordial. She caught sight of Zelle standing in the doorway and said, “Get out of my kitchen! Trying to take it over a bit soon, aren’t you?”

The need for pretense was over. Zelle said frankly, “You are a foolish woman.”

Betsy caught sight of Althea, just behind the nursemaid, and exclaimed, “Lady Althea! What is this?” Then she noted that Zelle’s gown was torn and soiled. She whisked Althea onto a chair, talking all the while. “My good girl, what has happened? Don’t tell me you’ve walked all the way—”

“Hush!” said Zelle compellingly. “Do not talk so much!”

Betsy’s mouth fell open, but she did not speak.

“Is Maddox in there?” Zelle jerked her head toward the public bar.

Betsy nodded. Something had clearly gone awry up at the Hall, judging from Zelle’s manner. Althea was white with exhaustion. Betsy had a strong sense of what was fitting, and clearly this was not the time for a personal discussion of Zelle’s character. She thrust a buttered slice of bread in Althea’s hand, and, marveling at the speed with which it vanished, provided another, with a glass of milk. But by then the child was nodding, more than half asleep.

“Believe me,” Zelle said earnestly, “I do not make the trouble. Not now. I bring you the Lady Althea. Maddox must not find her here. Promise me you keep her from him.”