The Marriage Trap (29 page)

She listened on tenterhooks as Dorothea related the events leading up to the robbery. Everyone gasped when she told how she'd practically caught the thief in the act. Ellie sighed with relief when no mention was made of Miss Hill and her little adventure. She was sure she had Cardvale to thank for that.

Mrs. King leaned forward in her chair. “And the thief was never caught?”

“No,” replied Dorothea. Her eyes flicked to Ellie and slid away. “But we have our suspicions. All the doors were locked, you see, though one of the keys was missing. My own view is that it was stolen by one of the guests and given to an accomplice so that he could come and go at will.”

“Why not simply force a window on the ground floor?”

“Because,” replied Dorothea darkly, “all the windows have shutters that lock from the inside.”

The lull in the conversation gave Ellie the opportunity to lead everyone away from the topic of Dorothea's diamonds. “Mrs. King,” she said, “I hear you're something of an herbalist. So was my mother, but I've lost most of her recipes. Tell me, where should I start? What should I plant in my herb garden?”

Not only did Mrs. King know her subject, but she was interesting, as well. For all that, Ellie found her mind wandering to the lost key. She had borrowed the key, of course. She had meant to return it, but in the excitement of being discovered and accused of robbery, she'd forgotten all about it.

What had she done with the key?

Her mind slipped back to the night of the riot in the Palais Royal. She'd arrived home alone, taken the key from her pochette to unlock the door, when someone opened it from the inside. The porter.

Then what?

Of course! She hadn't wanted the porter to know she'd taken the key, so she'd quickly slipped it into her coat pocket. But it wasn't her coat. It was Jack's cloak, the one his manservant had given her. And later, she had given the cloak to Lord Sedgewick to return to Jack as proof that she was Aurora. By that time, she'd forgotten all about the key.

So where was it now? She doubted that it would still be in Jack's cloak. A valet would empty his master's pockets before brushing his clothes and putting them away. Coates must know what he'd done with the key. Perhaps he'd given it to Jack.

It wasn't urgent. When she had a spare moment, she would ask Jack about it.

Her thoughts scattered when there was a sudden series of muffled explosions coming from the park, then light streaked across the sky. Some of the ladies gasped.

“Was that lightning?” asked Lord Stonebridge, suddenly coming to himself.

“A fireworks display, I think,” said someone else.

Ellie's heart subsided. It seemed that the young people had decided to have their own party in the park. The neighbors would not take kindly to a fireworks display at three in the morning. Jack would soon put a stop to it.

People got up and wandered over to the windows. A shower of stars burst overhead. More pops went off.

“Those weren't all fireworks going off,” said Colonel Howe thoughtfully. “I heard a pistol shot.”

Down below, coachmen in vehicles waiting for their passengers had a hard time restraining their horses. Suddenly, light streamed onto the steps from the front door. Jack left the house, with Brand close behind him. They crossed the road and entered the park.

Ellie turned smartly and made for the door. Others were ahead of her and she could not get past them.

Ash was on the front steps, doing his best to keep people back. Ellie had to elbow her way through to reach him. She wasn't panicked. She was still hoping that this was nothing more than a prank that had got out of hand, and if Robbie was part of it, she was going to read him the riot act.

“You, too, Ellie.” Ash's voice was stern and unrelenting. “Someone out there has a gun. No one is leaving this house until Jack gives the word.”

His expression, his harsh tone, so out of character for Ash, had her rooted to the spot. Fear clutched her throat.

She cried out when Jack and Milton emerged from the park. They were supporting Robbie. His chin was lolling on his chest. There was blood dripping from his hand. Behind them were Cardvale and Sedgewick. Harriet was hanging onto her father's arm. Ellie scanned the crowd. A file of silent young people, all Ellie's guests as far as she could tell, were not far behind Jack. Caro was there, too, looking wild-eyed and bewildered.

Jack's face was as white as Milton's. He spoke to Ellie in a low, calming voice. “It's a flesh wound, nothing more.”

“So much blood,” she said, agonized. Now she could see the dark stain spreading over Robbie's jacket. She didn't believe Jack. This was serious.

Jack spoke to Ash next. “Get him to bed, then send for the physician. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“I'll see to it,” replied Ash. The burden of Robbie was moved gently from Jack to Ash.

The dowager was there to take Caro into her arms. “Come along, dear,” she said. “No, don't worry about Robbie. Ellie will look after him.”

“Where are you going?” Ellie cried when Jack turned away.

“Back to the park. Brand is still there, waiting for the constables.”

Jack entered Robbie's bedchamber to find Ellie sitting on a chair pulled close to the bed, spooning something from a cup into her brother's mouth. Robbie's eyes were closed and he was swallowing involuntarily.

The doctor was there, too. He came out of the dressing room, drying his hands after washing them in the washbasin. Bloodied towels lay on a chair.

“Dr. Blackwell?” said Jack.

The doctor looked up. He was in his forties, of middle height, with a slight build and a sprinkling of silver in his dark hair. He lacked charm or the soothing touch, but he knew his business and that meant more to Jack.

“A wound under his left armpit,” said Blackwell. “The bullet did not lodge in his flesh, but it did take a bite out of him. I'd say he's a very lucky young man. There's a fresh scar here”—he pointed to his own left shoulder—“that still looks tender. A knife wound, is it?”

Ellie nodded. “He got that in Paris in a . . . brawl.”

“I see. A young man who likes to live dangerously.”

Jack felt rather than saw Ellie stiffen. “Dr. Blackwell,” he said, “a word with you?”

“Certainly.” The doctor turned to Ellie with one of his rare half smiles. “No need to ask if you know how to dress the wound. Where did you learn your skill?”

She did not look up, but continued to spoon her brew, drop by drop, past Robbie's lips. “In my father's parish,” she said. “I'm a vicar's daughter.”

His brows rose. He flicked a glance at his patient, but all he said was, “Give him as little laudanum as possible. If he becomes fevered, send for me at once. Otherwise, I shall drop by tomorrow afternoon. No need to look so stricken. He's a young man; he'll mend.”

In the corridor, Jack said, “Yes, he really is a vicar's son.”

Blackwell colored. “I beg your pardon if I've offended.”

Jack grinned wryly. “Not at all. My wife and her brother, for all their gentle upbringing, seem to attract danger. Believe me, it's hard to live with. Now, tell me, how lucky was he?”

Blackwell shrugged. “An inch to the right, a half inch, would have been the death of him. I could say as much about the knife wound. He may not be so lucky a third time.”

“There won't be a third time,” Jack replied. He thanked the doctor and had one of the footmen see him out while he went back to Ellie.

She'd set aside the cup and spoon and was bundling the bloodied towels, along with Robbie's bloodied clothes, into a wicker hamper. She seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. She was still wearing her party finery, now crushed and stained with her brother's blood. Her hair was coming undone. Her eyes were like crushed violets against the pallor of her skin.

He said helplessly, “One of the maids should do this.”

“No. I want to do it. When he wakes, I don't want him to see a stranger's face.” She looked up with a smile. “Did you think I was too delicate for the sight of blood? You should know me better than that.”

He felt a wave of fury flood through him. That this brave and generous girl should have so much to bear! That even he, with all his resources, could not protect her! He didn't expect to go through life without sorrow. But this was different. They were pitted against a cunning, malevolent adversary, someone in the shadows who had a purpose they could not even guess. How could he fight such an enemy?

A fierce determination gripped him. They had been too complacent. He had deferred to Ellie's wishes. He would not make that mistake again.

“Let's sit down,” she said, indicating chairs pulled close to the fire, “and you can tell me what happened. All Robbie was able to say was that he was responsible for arranging the fireworks display.”

When they were seated, she looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

“Nobody really knows what happened. The constable questioned all the young people who were with Robbie in the park and let them go. They weren't much help. They were all looking up at the sky, at the fireworks display, when the shot went off. When they saw Robbie, they thought it was a joke, that he was playacting. When he didn't get up, they realized their mistake.”

He reflected for a moment, then continued. “There was so much confusion at that point. A few panicked parents and God-knows-who else had crossed into the park to see what was going on. Someone cleared a path for Milton and me while Brand stayed in the park, waiting for the constable.”

There was a long silence after that. Finally, Ellie stirred. “What does the constable make of it?”

He spread his hands. “That some enterprising villain saw his chance when the fireworks were going off and tried to rob Robbie.”

She shivered and sank back against her chair. “To kill a man for the little he can carry in his pockets!” Then wildly and bitterly, “I thought the park gates were supposed to be locked at night!”

“It's easy to force locks,” he replied simply.

Her fingers began to work at the knot of her sash. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped. After another reflective silence, she breathed out a long sigh and looked at him steadily.

“What are you
not
telling me, Jack?”

Their chairs were close together. He reached out and took her hands in his. “Do I have to tell you? Don't you know? I don't accept the constable's view of things. This is not another coincidence. This is a logical progression from the night Louise Daudet was murdered. I know, I know, it doesn't make sense to us yet, but, as God is my witness, we
will
make sense of it.”

She pressed a hand to her eyes but remained silent.

He went on, “There was so much confusion in the park, so many people milling around, that I doubt we'll discover who shot Robbie. We have to go back to the beginning, to Louise Daudet. Her murder is the key that will unlock the mystery. Do you understand what I'm saying, Ellie?”

“You're thinking of Cardvale,” she said.

She was only half right, but he did not correct her. “Yes, I'm thinking of Cardvale.”

He knew it would be impossible to get her to leave her brother, so he did everything he could to see to her comfort. Most of the servants were already in bed, but his valet never went to bed before his master, so it was left to Coates to light the fire in Robbie's dressing room and find a maid to bring Ellie hot water to wash, a change of clothes, and a pot of tea.

While Ellie tidied herself, Jack stood watch over Robbie, a signal honor, as he well knew. And when Ellie returned, he settled himself in a chair beside the fire and had Coates bring him a glass of the best brandy he kept in his cellar. Then he sipped slowly, rarely taking his eyes off Ellie.

She sat quietly, trying to read by the lamp, but ever ready to put her book down when Robbie stirred or made a sound. The cup and spoon, now replenished, were on the table by the bed, and she made frequent use of them to quench Robbie's thirst.

“Only water,” she answered to Jack's whispered query.

At intervals, she felt her brother's brow and checked his dressing, and seemed satisfied with what she found.

The house was stirring when she began to droop. That's when Jack insisted that she get some rest.