Masquerade at Middlecrest Abbey, page 20
But what about Adrian? Was he simply enjoying himself for a time? He’d had mistresses in the past to be sure, but did he mean to be a husband now? How could I possibly tell where his charm ended and his true feelings began?
My throat felt tight, my stomach a bubbling pot of nerves. I knew if I moved an inch toward him, it would change our relationship forever.
In that moment of indecision, I caught sight of the corner of Isaac’s blue blanket.
Chapter 23
I could have discovered Isaac’s beloved blanket only from where Adrian and I sat on the tile floor of the dry larder. The hum of candlelight barely illuminated the tuff of blue fabric nestled deep into a crevice between the cabinet and the corner of the wall.
“What on earth?” I drew up onto my knees and grabbed the candle from the floor.
Adrian followed me onto his knees. “What is it?”
“Isaac’s blanket.” My voice seemed strange amid the quiet of the room. I wriggled my free hand into the tight gap and wrapped my fingers around the soft fabric. Gently, I twisted and pulled until the blanket was free. “He shall be so happy to have it returned.” I hugged it to my chest. “Do you suppose he pushed it in there himself? He is always coming down here to see Mrs. Jennings, and he likes to shove his wooden blocks into things.”
Adrian scanned the room as if the larder might provide some sort of answer. “I suppose it is possible. He would have been on the floor. But I cannot imagine Mrs. Jennings allowing him in here.”
I smiled. “You’d be surprised. Mrs. Jennings has a decided affection for Isaac. She lets him do all sorts of things I’d not expect her to. One time I caught her serving the soup with him on her hip.” I held the blanket into the light. “It is a bit dirty, but nothing too awful.” Intending to shake off the dust and cobwebs, I grasped the edge and flicked my wrist.
First there was a blur. Then a loud clang. Adrian and I both jerked our attention to the floor. Something had fallen out of the blanket. After a moment of pulsing silence, Adrian stooped to pick up whatever had fallen out. A flash of light glinted off the smooth, metallic surface in his hand.
A knife.
We both stared at it in disbelief. “Who would have wrapped up such a thing in Isaac’s blanket?”
Adrian cast me a sharp look. “A murderer, I expect.”
“But Giles was poisoned.” I leaned in close to examine the blade. The knife was clean with no evidence of foul play. “Wait.” Or was there? All at once the terrible scene formed like a play in my mind. The Frenchman. The kitchens. “What if the killer used the knife to distribute the poison in some way?”
“He cut the meat with it?”
“Exactly.” I set the candle down and paced the room, shaking out my hands. “We have believed all along that the poison must have been applied to Giles’s food. What if you were right earlier and the killer did use the door to the scullery? He could have utilized the room to prepare Giles’s meal—including the oil-arsenic marinade he soaked the meat in. Once the poison had seeped into the food, he would need a way to slice it and present it on a plate. If this knife was left behind somehow, he’d certainly want to recover it.”
Adrian took a moment to respond. “But why hide it in the dry larder?”
“Giles’s death was supposed to look like an accident.”
Adrian picked up the candle, his eyes bright in the wavering light. “Then he could not have taken a chance on this same knife poisoning someone else.” He frowned at the blanket. “Pardon me if I don’t exactly follow you in regard to this.”
I bit my lip. “Perhaps someone came upon him during the act, and he needed an immediate hiding spot. Isaac could have dropped his blanket anywhere. He has a habit of doing so.”
Adrian offered a slight shake of his head. “I’m sorry, but there is a definite hole in your assumptions. If the killer had to dispose of the knife quickly, he must have been seen. Otherwise, why bother—he could just take the knife with him. But since he stashed it in the pantry, we have to believe he did so with some purpose in mind or out of urgency. Either way, someone would have remarked on seeing him that morning.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Unless he has a friend in the house, as we’ve thought all along, someone who helped him.”
Adrian fell motionless.
My heart galloped as the scene took shape in my mind. “One person in the scullery and one in the main kitchen area.”
He turned away. “You mean to suggest, whoever hid this knife is one of my servants?”
“Yes, or perhaps one of the wedding party.”
I allowed him time to digest all I’d proposed before taking his hand. “Come on. I’d like to check the scullery as well.”
We wound our way out the kitchen door, across the small side garden, and through the scullery entrance, the moon a constant presence. An icy draft roamed the length of the stone floor. Adrian deposited the candle beside a large copper sink.
“What do you hope to find in here?”
“I’m not certain, but if the killer prepared the meat with this knife, he might have done so in this room.” I stepped onto a raised mat by the double stone sinks and inspected the cistern.
Adrian took a stroll around the room. It had probably been some time since he’d been in this part of the house. He stopped short near a small side cabinet and swung open the doors.
“You don’t suppose . . . Ah, yes, here we are.” He pulled a container into the light. “Your rat poison, madam.”
“I’ll have to check with Mrs. Jennings, but I have a sneaking feeling they don’t usually keep that in here.” I clasped my hands and caught my husband’s pointed glare. “Someone must have stolen into this room—probably our escaped Frenchman—poisoned the meat, then delivered the plate through the opening into the kitchen and the other murderer’s waiting hands. That person, a resident of Middlecrest, cut and served the tainted food to Giles.” My elation at finally coming to a possible theory faded as quickly as it had come. Two people . . . two devious, cold-blooded people, one of whom was likely still inside the house.
I did a poor job of covering a sudden yawn.
Adrian tugged me to him and wrapped his arm around my back. “This whole blasted business has taken a toll on everyone in the house. I daresay we’ve done enough tonight. I, for one, am ready for my bed.”
I nodded, all too aware of my own weariness. I’d thought at one time that learning the truth of Giles’s death would quench my unsettled feelings, but the loss of my dear friend, particularly in such a senseless way, would never be completely understood. Not really.
Lofty shadows christened our retreat up the stairs, the weight of truth hanging on our shoulders. Adrian must have sensed my disquiet as he followed me all the way into my room.
“Try to get some rest. I’ll speak with Browning in the morning. My instincts agree with your assumptions. The Frenchman was in the scullery, but I haven’t a clue who in the house has betrayed us.”
“Nor I.” I walked as if in a fog and dropped Isaac’s blanket on the floor. It would have to be thoroughly washed before returning to his sweet hands. I’m not at all certain I saw the white flash of paper perched on the coverlet as I rested my hand on the bedpost, but I could feel its presence all too quickly. My hands quivered as I drew them up to my throat.
“Not again.” Someone had been in my room while we were gone—someone had known of our wee-hour escapade.
Adrian raced over to me and seized the note. He cast me a hard look, then tore it open, his eyes narrowing in turn.
“What does it say?” My voice had become a strangled whisper.
He crushed the paper in a fist.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the wrinkled ball in his hands. “Another threat? You must tell me.”
He held the paper out. “I will do as you say, but I’m afraid it will only frighten you.”
Carefully, I twisted it open and focused on the jagged script.
Don’t make another move or your son may be forced to pay the price.
My eyes burned with unshed tears. “Isaac! We must get him at once.”
Adrian hurried to the door, his fingers clenched in a ball around the latch, his muscles so tight they twitched.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I tricked myself into believing I could keep the two of you safe. We are so close to solving everything.”
I followed him into the hallway with the candle. “It’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know . . . I . . . It was my decision to stay. Whoever wrote this only means to scare us.”
“And they are doing a blasted good job of it.” He halted at the nursery door. “I’ve never regretted any choices I’ve made in my life until now. I never should have married you and brought you here. It was nothing but selfish on my part.” His voice grew serious. “I used you to keep my secret.”
I angled into his gaze, as I reached to open the nursery door. “You act as if I had no say in that decision—that I was merely a possession to be bought or sold. You have been completely honest with me from the beginning, and our marriage was ultimately my decision.” My legs felt weak. “We are together now and bound by more than a signature on a slip of paper. I made a vow before God that day, and I don’t intend to break it.”
The candle dipped as I pushed open the nursery door, sending a wave of shadows skirting across the room. In silence we rushed through the front room and into Isaac’s small bedchamber. My knees nearly buckled when I saw his sleeping form.
Adrian was right beside me, his voice a tight whisper. “Get Isaac and let us return to your room. And I don’t care what you say, I’m sleeping in your bedchamber tonight.”
I felt dizzy. “What do you mean?”
He turned me to face him, his eyes so terribly direct, my knees nearly buckled a second time.
“I don’t mean to break my wedding vow either. We’re going to fight this together—the five of us—you, me, Isaac, and the girls. We’re a family now, and I won’t allow anyone to frighten us from our home.”
Chapter 24
I awoke to find Isaac cuddled up to my side, his pudgy fist smashed against his cheek. Despite the second threatening note, I’d slept better than ever before at Middlecrest, even with Adrian on the opposing side of the bed.
I took a deep breath, my heart a vulnerable drum. There had been no other choice of sleeping arrangements, not when we had the love act to maintain. The servants talked more than anyone else. It would do no good for my maid to find Adrian asleep on the rug.
Perhaps in the end, it was Adrian’s presence that granted me such a comfortable sleep. When was the last time I’d felt so safe?
I glanced over Isaac to Adrian’s still form an arm’s length away from me. The perfect wave my husband liked to maintain in his hair had barely moved overnight, and he appeared so much younger as he slept. He had a death grip on his pillow, and I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the night he slept on the floor at the White Lion Inn.
I glided my fingers across the coverlet before resting my hand on Isaac’s warm back. Over the past few years life had dealt me a bitter hand, teaching me to rely on myself alone. Abandonment had become a pattern. Time after time I was forced to build walls around my heart and face alone whatever trials arose. It was something I’d become quite excellent at. Goodness, I actually wore my stony resilience as a badge of honor—Elizabeth Cantrell, the lady who refused to let anyone hurt her again.
But last night while I lie awake in the dark surrounded by my new family, something shifted in my heart. I didn’t like the person I had become. Curious how one instance can readjust a person’s entire perspective. For me it was when Adrian and I rushed to fetch Isaac, and Adrian demanded to stay in my bedchamber. I realized then, for the first time in so very long, I was not alone.
Adrian stirred before raising a hand to rub his face. It took only a moment for him to focus on me. His eyes looked tired, but his easy smile was as quick as ever.
“I meant to be up early. I saw your maid come in to light the fire, but I was too tired to rise.”
“I can imagine. We fell asleep so late.”
He draped his arm over his head. “I actually slept quite well. You?”
“I did. Thank you for staying.”
He laughed. “I don’t think I gave you much of a choice.”
I was certain he’d intended to return to his own bed when he was confident we were all safe. A spark of heat crept into my cheeks, and I hid my face in the covers.
He swung into a sitting position with his feet dangling beside the bed and adjusted his night shift. “I suppose I better head on to my bedchamber to dress. Browning will be pounding on my door if I linger much longer.” After a quick stretch, he crossed the rug to the connecting door.
I couldn’t help but notice my husband’s shapely legs, as they were so nicely exposed beneath his shift.
He turned back rather quickly. “I’ll only be a room away.”
I dipped my chin, attempting to conceal the embarrassment inching up my spine.
“No one is going to try anything in full light with my husband so near.”
He gave me a reassuring grin. “What plans do you have today?”
Was he really going to stand there half dressed as if it was nothing out of the common way? I swallowed hard.
“First, I shall take Isaac to the nursery and spend some time there. Miss Barton must be told the whole of the danger since I cannot be with Isaac at all times. And then I should like to speak with Juliana.” I hoped to find out more about the mysterious Ewan Hawkins. He had been in the kitchens the morning Giles was killed. At this point everyone needed to be considered.
Adrian twisted his signet ring on his finger. “I’d rather you not leave the house, at least not alone.”
His words nettled, but I understood his concern. “I won’t do so without you. I promise.”
“Good. I’ve an appointment with Browning and then some estate business to tend to, but please do not hesitate to come to my study if you need anything.”
I grasped the bell pull to call for my maid. “Rest assured, you won’t be able to hide from me if I decide I need you.”
He pulled open the connecting door, and I thought I heard a chuckle as he disappeared inside.
I hadn’t long to wait before Lilley arrived and helped me dress. Isaac woke midway through the affair, and Lilley did a passable job playing nursemaid and abigail at the same time.
Later Isaac and I made our way to the nursery as fast as his little knees would carry him. He wouldn’t even consider riding on my hip. He had an independent mind like his mother—and father.
I stopped short inches from the nursery door as a thought took hold. Adrian was Brook’s opposite in every way possible. Adrian, the eldest, had been left the title and running of the estate. He had grown into a planner, a man loyal to his servants, a father loved by his children. Both brothers possessed the Radcliff eyes and teasing mannerisms, but they were not the same person. Not at all. And I had somehow managed to marry the better of the two.
Isaac scooted around the nursery door, and I followed him inside. Miss Barton jumped from her seat on the sofa and rushed over to us.
“I have been waiting an age. Tell me at once why you whisked Isaac from his bed in the middle of the night.”
I was taken aback by her tone and the sharp scowl on her face. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I did leave a note.”
“That told me nothing.”
I closed the door behind me and made my way to a nearby chair. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but you must understand the gravity of our situation. Do you remember me speaking about Giles’s murder?”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Well, yes.”
“I received a note last night threatening Isaac.”
Her face blanched. “From the murderer?”
“We believe so.”
Slowly, she turned to look at him. “Are you and Isaac to stay in this house?”
“At present, yes. I haven’t had much time to think. Lord Torrington is here. I believe it’s important to stay close to him.”
“But you must think of your child.”
My hand fell like a stone onto the armrest. “I am thinking of him!”
Miss Barton drew back, probably all too aware of her gross mistake. She was never to question me. “Forgive me.”
My shoulders slumped. Isaac needed consistency and security. A team of people caring for him. This was no time to pick a quarrel.
“We’ve all been under a great deal of stress. I hope I can count on you, for I am entrusting you with my son’s life. I cannot be forever with him.”
She gave me a mournful look. “You know I would do anything for our boy.”
“I do, and I thank you for it.”
The three of us remained in the nursery for the whole of the morning, and I left only when my stomach declared it was time for lunch. I had no strong suspicions of who could have written the notes, so I was forced to continue my investigation, hoping I might turn up something. At first I thought to leave Isaac with Miss Barton; however, when the moment came, I found I could not bring myself to part from him.
So he accompanied me to a plate of cold meat and then on to Juliana’s room. I found her sprawled across her great poster bed, a book in her hand. The door was ajar, but I knocked before entering.
“Have you a moment to spare?”
She sat up at once and wiped her eyes. “Come in.”
This was not the Juliana I’d experienced over the last few days, neither morose nor dejected. This version had a harried look about her. Her chignon had slipped to the side and her fingers made busy work of the patterns on the coverlet. She’d been keeping her distance from the rest of the house and suddenly I knew why. Today was supposed to be the day of her marriage.
I crossed the room to her bedside. “How are you?”
She stiffened. “As well as can be expected.” She avoided my gaze. “I hoped you’d come to tell me the escaped prisoner had been found.”
